nS^T  W  illlllig 


LITTLE   NOVELS    BY 

FAVOURITE   AUTHORS 


Man   Overboard 


F.  MARION  CRAWFORD 


Man   Overboard  ! 


BY 

F.   MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF   "THE  UPPER  BERTH,"    "CECILIA," 
"THE  WITCH  OF  PRAGUE,"    ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  Co.,  LTD. 
1903 


All  rights  rtstrved 


COPYRIGHT,  1903, 
BY  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD. 

COPYRIGHT,  1903, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  April,  1903. 


NorfoooU 

J.  8.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Portrait  of  F.  Marion  Crawford  .       Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

"He  let  go  of  the  knife,  and  the  point 

stuck  into  the  deck"         ...      54 

"  One  of  his  wet,  shiny  arms  was  round 

Mamie's  waist"          ....      92 


M22178 


MAN    OVERBOARD 


|ES  —  I  have  heard  "  Man  over 
board  ! "  a  good  many  times 
since  I  was  a  boy,  and  once  or 
twice  I  have  seen  the  man  go.  There 
are  more  men  lost  in  that  way  than  pas 
sengers  on  ocean  steamers  ever  learn  of. 
I  have  stood  looking  over  the  rail  on  a 
dark  night,  when  there  was  a  step  beside 
me,  and  something  flew  past  my  head 
like  a  big  black  bat  —  and  then  there 
was  a  splash  !  Stokers  often  go  like 
that.  They  go  mad  with  the  heat,  and 
they  slip  up  on  deck  and  are  gone  before 
anybody  can  stop  them,  often  without 
being  seen  or  heard.  Now  and  then  a 
passenger  will  do  it,  but  he  generally 
has  what  he  thinks  a  pretty  good  reason. 
7 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

I  have  seen  a  man  empty  his  revolver 
into  a  crowd  of  emigrants  forward,  and 
then"  go  over  like  a  rocket.  Of  course, 
any  officer  who  respects  himself  will  do 
what  lie  can  to  pick  a  man  up,  if  the 
weather  is  not  so  heavy  that  he  would 
have  to  risk  his  ship;  but  I  don't  think 
I  remember  seeing  a  man  come  back 
when  he  was  once  fairly  gone  more  than 
two  or  three  times  in  all  my  life,  though 
we  have  often  picked  up  the  life-buoy, 
and  sometimes  the  fellow's  cap.  Stokers 
and  passengers  jump  over ;  I  never  knew 
a  sailor  to  do  that,  drunk  or  sober.  Yes, 
they  say  it  has  happened  on  hard  ships, 
but  I  never  knew  a  case  myself.  Once 
in  a  long  time  a  man  is  fished  out  when 
it  is  just  too  late,  and  dies  in  the  boat 
before  you  can  get  him  aboard,  and  — 
well,  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  told  that 
story  since  it  happened  —  I  knew  a 
fellow  who  went  over,  and  came  back 
dead.  I  didn't  see  him  after  he  came 
back ;  only  one  of  us  did,  but  we  all 
knew  he  was  there. 
8 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

No,  I  am  not  giving  you  "sharks." 
There  isn't  a  shark  in  this  story,  and  I 
don't  know  that  I  would  tell  it  at  all  if 
we  weren't  alone,  just  you  and  I.  But 
you  and  I  have  seen  things  in  various 
parts,  and  maybe  you  will  understand. 
Anyhow,  you  know  that  I  am  telling 
what  I  know  about,  and  nothing  else ; 
and  it  has  been  on  my  mind  to  tell  you 
ever  since  it  happened,  only  there  hasn't 
been  a  chance. 

It's  a  long  story,  and  it  took  some  time 
to  happen ;  and  it  began  a  good  many 
years  ago,  in  October,  as  well  as  I  can 
remember.  I  was  mate  then ;  I  passed 
the  local  Marine  Board  for  master  about 
three  years  later.  She  was  the  Helen  B. 
Jackson,  of  New  York,  with  lumber  for 
the  West  Indies,  four-masted  schooner, 
Captain  Hackstaff.  She  was  an  old- 
fashioned  one,  even  then  —  no  steam 
donkey,  and  all  to  do  by  hand.  There 
were  still  sailors  in  the  coasting  trade  in 
those  days,  you  remember.  She  wasn't 
a  hard  ship,  for  the  old  man  was  better 
9 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

than  most  of  them,  though  he  kept  to  him 
self  and  had  a  face  like  a  monkey-wrench. 
We  were  thirteen,  all  told,  in  the  ship's 
company ;  and  some  of  them  afterwards 
thought  that  might  have  had  something 
to  do  with  it,  but  I  had  all  that  nonsense 
knocked  out  of  me  when  I  was  a  boy. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  like  to  go  to 
sea  on  a  Friday,  but  I  have  gone  to  sea 
on  a  Friday,  and  nothing  has  happened ; 
and  twice  before  that  we  have  been  thir 
teen,  because  one  of  the  hands  didn't 
turn  up  at  the  last  minute,  and  nothing 
ever  happened  either  —  nothing  worse 
than  the  loss  of  a  light  spar  or  two,  or 
a  little  canvas.  Whenever  I  have  been 
wrecked,  we  had  sailed  as  cheerily  as 
you  please  —  no  thirteens,  no  Fridays, 
no  dead  men  in  the  hold.  I  believe  it 
generally  happens  that  way. 

I  dare  say  you  remember  those  two 
Benton  boys  that  were  so  much  alike? 
It  is  no  wonder,  for  they  were  twin  broth 
ers.  They  shipped  with  us  as  boys  on 
the  old  Boston  Belle,  when  you  were 
10 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

mate  and  I  was  before  the  mast.  I 
never  was  quite  sure  which  was  which 
of  those  two,  even  then ;  and  when  they 
both  had  beards  it  was  harder  than  ever 
to  tell  them  apart.  One  was  Jim,  and 
the  other  was  Jack ;  James  Benton  and 
John  Benton.  The  only  difference  I 
ever  could  see  was,  that  one  seemed  to 
be  rather  more  cheerful  and  inclined 
to  talk  than  the  other ;  but  one  couldn't 
even  be  sure  of  that.  Perhaps  they 
had  moods.  Anyhow,  there  was  one  of 
them  that  used  to  whistle  when  he  was 
alone.  He  only  knew  one  tune,  and 
that  was  "  Nancy  Lee,"  and  the  other 
didn't  know  any  tune  at  all ;  but  I  may 
be  mistaken  about  that,  too.  Perhaps 
they  both  knew  it. 

Well,  those  two  Benton  boys  turned 
up  on  board  the  Helen  B.Jackson.  They 
had  been  on  half  a  dozen  ships  since  the 
Boston  Belle,  and  they  had  grown  up 
and  were  good  seamen.  They  had  red 
dish  beards  and  bright  blue  eyes  and 
freckled  faces ;  and  they  were  quiet  f el- 
ii 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

lows,  good  workmen  on  rigging,  pretty 
willing,  and  both  good  men  at  the  wheel. 
They  managed  to  be  in  the  same  watch 
—  it  was  the  port  watch  on  the  Helen  B.t 
and  that  was  mine,  and  I  had  great  con 
fidence  in  them  both.  If  there  was  any 
job  aloft  that  needed  two  hands,  they 
were  always  the  first  to  jump  into  the 
rigging;  but  that  doesn't  often  happen 
on  a  fore-and-aft  schooner.  If  it  breezed 
up,  and  the  jibtopsail  was  to  be  taken  in, 
they  never  minded  a  wetting,  and  they 
would  be  out  at  the  bowsprit  end  before 
there  was  a  hand  at  the  downhaul.  The 
men  liked  them  for  that,  and  because 
they  didn't  blow  about  what  they  could 
do.  I  remember  one  day  in  a  reefing  job, 
the  downhaul  parted  and  came  down 
on  deck  from  the  peak  of  the  spanker. 
When  the  weather  moderated,  and  we 
shook  the  reefs  out,  the  downhaul  was 
forgotten  until  we  happened  to  think  we 
might  soon  need  it  again.  There  was 
some  sea  on,  and  the  boom  was  off  and 
the  gaff  was  slamming.  One  of  those 
12 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

Benton  boys  was  at  the  wheel,  and 
before  I  knew  what  he  was  doing,  the 
other  was  out  on  the  gaff  with  the  end 
of  the  new  downhaul,  trying  to  reeve  it 
through  its  block.  The  one  who  was 
steering  watched  him,  and  got  as  white 
as  cheese.  The  other  one  was  swing 
ing  about  on  the  gaff  end,  and  every 
time  she  rolled  to  leeward  he  brought 
up  with  a  jerk  that  would  have  sent  any 
thing  but  a  monkey  flying  into  space. 
But  he  didn't  leave  it  until  he  had  rove 
the  new  rope,  and  he  got  back  all  right. 
I  think  it  was  Jack  at  the  wheel ;  the  one 
that  seemed  more  cheerful,  the  one  that 
whistled  "  Nancy  Lee."  He  had  rather 
have  been  doing  the  job  himself  than 
watch  his  brother  do  it,  and  he  had  a 
scared  look ;  but  he  kept  her  as  steady  as 
he  could  in  the  swell,  and  he  drew  a  long 
breath  when  Jim  had  worked  his  way 
back  to  the  peak-halliard  block,  and  had 
something  to  hold  on  to.  I  think  it  was 
Jim. 

They  had  good   togs,  too,  and   they 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

were  neat  and  clean  men  in  the  fore 
castle.  I  knew  they  had  nobody  be 
longing  to  them  ashore,  —  no  mother,  no 
sisters,  and  no  wives  ;  but  somehow  they 
both  looked  as  if  a  woman  overhauled 
them  now  and  then.  I  remember  that 
they  had  one  ditty  bag  between  them, 
and  they  had  a  woman's  thimble  in  it. 
One  of  the  men  said  something  about  it 
to  them,  and  they  looked  at  each  other ; 
and  one  smiled,  but  the  other  didn't. 
Most  of  their  clothes  were  alike,  but 
they  had  one  red  guernsey  between 
them.  For  some  time  I  used  to  think 
it  was  always  the  same  one  that  wore  it, 
and  I  thought  that  might  be  a  way  to 
tell  them  apart.  But  then  I  heard  one 
asking  the  other  for  it,  and  saying  that 
the  other  had  worn  it  last.  So  that  was 
no  sign  either.  The  cook  was  a  West  In- 
diaman,  called  James  Lawley ;  his  father 
had  been  hanged  for  putting  lights  in 
cocoanut  trees  where  they  didn't  belong. 
But  he  was  a  good  cook,  and  knew  his 
business ;  and  it  wasn't  soup-and-bully 
14 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

and  dog's-body  every  Sunday.  That's 
what  I  meant  to  say.  On  Sunday  the 
cook  called  both  those  boys  Jim,  and  on 
week-days  he  called  them  Jack.  He 
used  to  say  he  must  be  right  sometimes 
if  he  did  that,  because  even  the  hands  on 
a  painted  clock  point  right  twice  a  day. 
What  started  me  to  trying  for  some 
way  of  telling  the  Bentons  apart  was 
this.  I  heard  them  talking  about  a 
girl.  It  was  at  night,  in  our  watch,  and 
the  wind  had  headed  us  off  a  little 
rather  suddenly,  and  when  we  had  flat 
tened  in  the  jibs,  we  clewed  down  the 
topsails,  while  the  two  Benton  boys  got 
the  spanker  sheet  aft.  One  of  them 
was  at  the  helm.  I  coiled  down  the 
mizzen-topsail  downhaul  myself,  and 
was  going  aft  to  see  how  she  headed  up, 
when  I  stopped  to  look  at  a  light,  and 
leaned  against  the  deck-house.  While 
I  was  standing  there  I  heard  the  two 
boys  talking.  It  sounded  as  if  they  had 
talked  of  the  same  thing  before,  and  as 
far  as  I  could  tell,  the  voice  I  heard  first 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

belonged  to  the  one  who  wasn't  quite  so 
cheerful  as  the  other,  — the  one  who  was 
Jim  when  one  knew  which  he  was. 

"  Does  Mamie  know  ? "  Jim  asked. 

"Not  yet,"  Jack  answered  quietly. 
He  was  at  the  wheel.  "  I  mean  to  tell 
her  next  time  we  get  home." 

"All  right." 

That  was  all  I  heard,  because  I  didn't 
care  to  stand  there  listening  while  they 
were  talking  about  their  own  affairs ;  so 
I  went  aft  to  look  into  the  binnacle,  and 
I  told  the  one  at  the  wheel  to  keep  her 
so  as  long  as  she  had  way  on  her, 
for  I  thought  the  wind  would  back  up 
again  before  long,  and  there  was  land  to 
leeward.  When  he  answered,  his  voice, 
somehow,  didn't  sound  like  the  cheerful 
one.  Perhaps  his  brother  had  relieved 
the  wheel  while  they  had  been  speaking, 
but  what  I  had  heard  set  me  wondering 
which  of  them  it  was  that  had  a  girl  at 
home.  There's  lots  of  time  for  wonder 
ing  on  a  schooner  in  fair  weather. 

After  that  I  thought  I  noticed  that 
16 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

the  two  brothers  were  more  silent 
when  they  were  together.  Perhaps  they 
guessed  that  I  had  overheard  something 
that  night,  and  kept  quiet  when  I  was 
about.  Some  men  would  have  amused 
themselves  by  trying  to  chaff  them  sep 
arately  about  the  girl  at  home,  and  I 
suppose  whichever  one  it  was  would 
have  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  if  I  had 
done  that.  But,  somehow,  I  didn't  like 
to.  Yes,  I  was  thinking  of  getting  mar 
ried  myself  at  that  time,  so  I  had  a  sort 
of  fellow-feeling  for  whichever  one  it 
was,  that  made  me  not  want  to  chaff  him. 
They  didn't  talk  much,  it  seemed  to 
me;  but  in  fair  weather,  when  there 
was  nothing  to  do  at  night,  and  one  was 
steering,  the  other  was  everlastingly 
hanging  round  as  if  he  were  waiting  to 
relieve  the  wheel,  though  he  might  have 
been  enjoying  a  quiet  nap  for  all  I  cared 
in  such  weather.  Or  else,  when  one 
was  taking  his  turn  at  the  lookout,  the 
other  would  be  sitting  on  an  anchor  be 
side  him.  One  kept  near  the  other,  at 
c  17 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

night  more  than  in  the  daytime.  I 
noticed  that.  They  were  fond  of  sit 
ting  on  that  anchor,  and  they  generally 
tucked  away  their  pipes  under  it,  for 
the  Helen  B.  was  a  dry  boat  in  most 
weather,  and  like  most  fore-and-afters 
was  better  on  a  wind  than  going  free. 
With  a  beam  sea  we  sometimes  shipped 
a  little  water  aft.  We  were  by  the  stern, 
anyhow,  on  that  voyage,  and  that  is  one 
reason  why  we  lost  the  man. 

We  fell  in  with  a  southerly  gale,  south 
east  at  first;  and  then  the  barometer 
began  to  fall  while  you  could  watch  it, 
and  a  long  swell  began  to  come  up  from 
the  south'ard.  A  couple  of  months 
earlier  we  might  have  been  in  for  a 
cyclone,  but  it's  "  October  all  over  "  in 
those  waters,  as  you  know  better  than 
I.  It  was  just  going  to  blow,  and  then 
it  was  going  to  rain,  that  was  all ; 
and  we  had  plenty  of  time  to  make 
everything  snug  before  it  breezed  up 
much.  It  blew  harder  after  sunset,  and 
by  the  time  it  was  quite  dark  it  was  a 
18 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

full  gale.  We  had  shortened  sail  for  it, 
but  as  we  were  by  the  stern  we  were 
carrying  the  spanker  close  reefed  instead 
of  the  storm  trysail.  She  steered  better 
so,  as  long  as  we  didn't  have  to  heave 
to.  I  had  the  first  watch  with  the 
Benton  boys,  and  we  had  not  been  on 
deck  an  hour  when  a  child  might  have 
seen  that  the  weather  meant  business. 

The  old  man  came  up  on  deck  and 
looked  round,  and  in  less  than  a  minute 
he  told  us  to  give  her  the  trysail.  That 
meant  heaving  to,  and  I  was  glad  of  it ; 
for  though  the  Helen  B.  was  a  good 
vessel  enough,  she  wasn't  a  new  ship  by 
a  long  way,  and  it  did  her  no  good  to  drive 
her  in  that  weather.  I  asked  whether 
I  should  call  all  hands,  but  just  then  the 
cook  came  aft,  and  the  old  man  said  he 
thought  we  could  manage  the  job  with 
out  waking  the  sleepers,  and  the  trysail 
was  handy  on  deck  already,  for  we 
hadn't  been  expecting  anything  better. 
We  were  all  in  oilskins,  of  course,  and 
the  night  was  as  black  as  a  coal  mine, 
19 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

with  only  a  ray  of  light  from  the  slit  in 
the  binnacle  shield,  and  you  couldn't  tell 
one  man  from  another  except  by  his 
voice.  The  old  man  took  the  wheel ;  we 
got  the  boom  amidships,  and  he  jammed 
her  into  the  wind  until  she  had  hardly 
any  way.  It  was  blowing  now,  and  it 
was  all  that  I  and  two  others  could  do 
to  get  in  the  slack  of  the  downhaul, 
while  the  others  lowered  away  at  the 
peak  and  throat,  and  we  had  our  hands 
full  to  get  a  couple  of  turns  round 
the  wet  sail.  It's  all  child's  play  on  a 
fore-and-after  compared  with  reefing 
topsails  in  anything  like  weather,  but 
the  gear  of  a  schooner  sometimes  does 
unhandy  things  that  you  don't  expect, 
and  those  everlasting  long  halliards  get 
foul  of  everything  if  they  get  adrift.  I 
remember  thinking  how  unhandy  that 
particular  job  was.  Somebody  unhooked 
the  throat-halliard  block,  and  thought  he 
had  hooked  it  into  the  head-cringle  of 
the  trysail,  and  sang  out  to  hoist  away, 
but  he  had  missed  it  in  the  dark,  and 

20 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

the  heavy  block  went  flying  into  the 
lee  rigging,  and  nearly  killed  him  when 
it  swung  back  with  the  weather  roll. 
Then  the  old  man  got  her  up  in  the  wind 
until  the  jib  was  shaking  like  thunder ; 
then  he  held  her  off,  and  she  went  off 
as  soon  as  the  head-sails  filled,  and  he 
couldn't  get  her  back  again  without  the 
spanker.  Then  the  Helen  B.  did  her 
favourite  trick,  and  before  we  had  time 
to  say  much  we  had  a  sea  over  the  quarter 
and  were  up  to  our  waists,  with  the  parrels 
of  the  trysail  only  half  becketed  round  the 
mast,  and  the  deck  so  full  of  gear  that 
you  couldn't  put  your  foot  on  a  plank, 
and  the  spanker  beginning  to  get  adrift- 
again,  being  badly  stopped,  and  the 
general  confusion  and  hell's  delight  that 
you  can  only  have  on  a  fore-and-after 
when  there's  nothing  really  serious  the 
matter.  Of  course,  I  don't  mean  to  say 
that  the  old  man  couldn't  have  steered 
his  trick  as  well  as  you  or  I  or  any  other 
seaman  ;  but  I  don't  believe  he  had  ever 
been  on  board  the  Helen  B.  before,  or 

21 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

had  his  hand  on  her  wheel  till  then  ;  and 
he  didn't  know  her  ways.  I  don't  mean 
to  say  that  what  happened  was  his 
fault.  I  don't  know  whose  fault  it  was. 
Perhaps  nobody  was  to  blame.  But  I 
knew  something  happened  somewhere 
on  board  when  we  shipped  that  sea,  and 
you'll  never  get  it  out  of  my  head.  I 
hadn't  any  spare  time  myself,  for  I  was 
becketing  the  rest  of  the  trysail  to  the 
mast.  We  were  on  the  starboard  tack, 
and  the  throat-halliard  came  down  to 
port  as  usual,  and  I  suppose  there  were 
at  least  three  men  at  it,  hoisting  away, 
while  I  was  at  the  beckets. 

Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some 
thing.  You  have  known  me,  man  and 
boy,  several  voyages ;  and  you  are  older 
than  I  am ;  and  you  have  always  been  a 
good  friend  to  me.  Now,  do  you  think 
I  am  the  sort  of  man  to  think  I  hear 
things  where  there  isn't  anything  to 
hear,  or  to  think  I  see  things  when  there 
is  nothing  to  see  ?  No,  you  don't.  Thank 
you.  Well  now,  I  had  passed  the  last 

22 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

becket,  and  I  sang  out  to  the  men  to 
sway  away,  and  I  was  standing  on  the 
jaws  of  the  spanker-gaff,  with  my  left 
hand  on  the  bolt-rope  of  the  trysail,  so 
that  I  could  feel  when  it  was  board-taut, 
and  I  wasn't  thinking  of  anything  except 
being  glad  the  job  was  over,  and  that 
we  were  going  to  heave  her  to.  It  was  as 
black  as  a  coal-pocket,  except  that  you 
could  see  the  streaks  on  the  seas  as  they 
went  by,  and  abaft  the  deck-house  I 
could  see  the  ray  of  light  from  the  bin 
nacle  on  the  captain's  yellow  oilskin  as 
he  stood  at  the  wheel  —  or  rather  I  might 
have  seen  it  if  I  had  looked  round  at 
that  minute.  But  I  didn't  look  round. 
I  heard  a  man  whistling.  It  was  "  Nancy 
Lee,"  and  I  could  have  sworn  that  the 
man  was  right  over  my  head  in  the 
crosstrees.  Only  somehow  I  knew  very 
well  that  if  anybody  could  have  been 
up  there,  and  could  have  whistled  a 
tune,  there  were  no  living  ears  sharp 
enough  to  hear  it  on  deck  then.  I  heard 
it  distinctly,  and  at  the  same  time  I 
23 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

heard  the  real  whistling  of  the  wind  in 
the  weather  rigging,  sharp  and  clear  as 
the  steam-whistle  on  a  Dago's  peanut- 
cart  in  New  York.  That  was  all  right, 
that  was  as  it  should  be ;  but  the  other 
wasn't  right ;  and  I  felt  queer  and  stiff, 
as  if  I  couldn't  move,  and  my  hair  was 
curling  against  the  flannel  lining  of  my 
sou'wester,  and  I  thought  somebody  had 
dropped  a  lump  of  ice  down  my  back. 

I  said  that  the  noise  of  the  wind  in 
the  rigging  was  real,  as  if  the  other 
wasn't,  for  I  felt  that  it  wasn't,  though  I 
heard  it.  But  it  was,  all  the  same ;  for 
the  captain  heard  it,  too.  When  I  came 
to  relieve  the  wheel,  while  the  men  were 
clearing  up  decks,  he  was  swearing. 
He  was  a  quiet  man,  and  I  hadn't  heard 
him  swear  before,  and  I  don't  think  I 
did  again,  though  several  queer  things 
happened  after  that.  Perhaps  he  said 
all  he  had  to  say  then ;  I  don't  see  how 
he  could  have  said  anything  more.  I 
used  to  think  nobody  could  swear  like  a 
Dane,  except  a  Neapolitan  or  a  South 
24 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

American ;  but  when  I  had  heard  the 
old  man  I  changed  my  mind.  There's 
nothing  afloat  or  ashore  that  can  beat 
one  of  your  quiet  American  skippers, 
if  he  gets  off  on  that  tack.  I  didn't 
need  to  ask  him  what  was  the  matter, 
for  I  knew  he  had  heard  "  Nancy  Lee," 
as  I  had,  only  it  affected  us  differently. 

He  did  not  give  me  the  wheel,  but 
told  me  to  go  forward  and  get  the  second 
bonnet  off  the  staysail,  so  as  to  keep  her 
up  better.  As  we  tailed  on  to  the  sheet 
when  it  was  done,  the  man  next  me 
knocked  his  sou'wester  off  against  my 
shoulder,  and  his  face  came  so  close  to 
me  that  I  could  see  it  in  the  dark.  It 
must  have  been  very  white  for  me  to 
see  it,  but  I  only  thought  of  that  after 
wards.  I  don't  see  how  any  light  could 
have  fallen  upon  it,  but  I  knew  it  was 
one  of  the  Benton  boys.  I  don't  know 
what  made  me  speak  to  him.  "  Hullo, 
Jim  !  Is  that  you  ? "  I  asked.  I  don't 
know  why  I  said  Jim,  rather  than  Jack. 

"  I  am  Jack,"  he  answered. 
25 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

We  made  all  fast,  and  things  were 
much  quieter. 

"  The  old  man  heard  you  whistling 
'  Nancy  Lee,'  just  now,"  I  said,  "  and 
he  didn't  like  it." 

It  was  as  if  there  were  a  white  light 
inside  his  face,  and  it  was  ghastly.  I 
know  his  teeth  chattered.  But  he  didn't 
say  anything,  and  the  next  minute  he  was 
somewhere  in  the  dark  trying  to  find 
his  sou'wester  at  the  foot  of  the  mast. 

When  all  was  quiet,  and  she  was  hove 
to,  coming  to  and  falling  off  her  four 
points  as  regularly  as  a  pendulum,  and 
the  helm  lashed  a  little  to  the  lee,  the 
old  man  turned  in  again,  and  I  managed 
to  light  a  pipe  in  the  lee  of  the  deck 
house,  for  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
done  till  the  gale  chose  to  moderate, 
and  the  ship  was  as  easy  as  a  baby  in 
its  cradle.  Of  course  the  cook  had  gone 
below,  as  he  might  have  done  an  hour 
earlier;  so  there  were  supposed  to  be 
four  of  us  in  the  watch.  There  was  a 
man  at  the  lookout,  and  there  was  a 
26 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

hand  by  the  wheel,  though  there  was  no 
steering  to  be  done,  and  I  was  having 
my  pipe  in  the  lee  of  the  deck-house, 
and  the  fourth  man  was  somewhere 
about  decks,  probably  having  a  smoke 
too.  I  thought  some  skippers  I  had 
sailed  with  would  have  called  the  watch 
aft,  and  given  them  a  drink  after  that 
job,  but  it  wasn't  cold,  and  I  guessed 
that  our  old  man  wouldn't  be  particu 
larly  generous  in  that  way.  My  hands 
and  feet  were  red-hot,  and  it  would  be 
time  enough  to  get  into  dry  clothes 
when  it  was  my  watch  below;  so  I 
stayed  where  I  was,  and  smoked.  But 
by  and  by,  things  being  so  quiet,  I  began 
to  wonder  why  nobody  moved  on  deck ; 
just  that  sort  of  restless  wanting  to 
know  where  every  man  is  that  one 
sometimes  feels  in  a  gale  of  wind  on 
a  dark  night.  So  when  I  had  finished 
my  pipe  I  began  to  move  about.  I 
went  aft,  and  there  was  a  man  leaning 
over  the  wheel,  with  his  legs  apart  and 
both  hands  hanging  down  in  the  light 
27 


MAN  OVERBOARD  ! 

from  the  binnacle,  and  his  sou'wester 
over  his  eyes.  Then  I  went  forward, 
and  there  was  a  man  at  the  lookout, 
with  his  back  against  the  foremast,  get 
ting  what  shelter  he  could  from  the 
staysail.  I  knew  by  his  small  height 
that  he  was  not  one  of  the  Benton  boys. 
Then  I  went  round  by  the  weather  side, 
and  poked  about  in  the  dark,  for  I  began 
to  wonder  where  the  other  man  was. 
But  I  couldn't  find  him,  though  I 
searched  the  decks  until  I  got  right  aft 
again.  It  was  certainly  one  of  the 
Benton  boys  that  was  missing,  but  it 
wasn't  like  either  of  them  to  go  below 
to  change  his  clothes  in  such  warm 
weather.  The  man  at  the  wheel  was 
the  other,  of  course.  I  spoke  to  him. 

"  Jim,  what's  become  of  your  brother  ? " 

"  I  am  Jack,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,  Jack,  where's  Jim  ?  He's 
not  on  deck." 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

When  I  had  come  up  to  him  he  had 
stood  up  from  force  of  instinct,  and 
28 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

had  laid  his  hands  on  the  spokes  as  if 
he  were  steering,  though  the  wheel  was 
lashed ;  but  he  still  bent  his  face  down, 
and  it  was  half  hidden  by  the  edge 
of  his  sou'wester,  while  he  seemed  to 
be  staring  at  the  compass.  He  spoke 
in  a  very  low  voice,  but  that  was  natu 
ral,  for  the  captain  had  left  his  door 
open  when  he  turned  in,  as  it  was  a 
warm  night  in  spite  of  the  storm,  and 
there  was  no  fear  of  shipping  any  more 
water  now. 

"  What  put  it  into  your  head  to  whis 
tle  like  that,  Jack  ?  You've  been  at  sea 
long  enough  to  know  better." 

He  said  something,  but  I  couldn't 
hear  the  words;  it  sounded  as  if  he 
were  denying  the  charge. 

"  Somebody  whistled,"  I  said. 

He  didn't  answer,  and  then,  I  don't 
know  why,  perhaps  because  the  old  man 
hadn't  given  us  a  drink,  I  cut  half  an 
inch  off  the  plug  of  tobacco  I  had  in  my 
oilskin  pocket,  and  gave  it  to  him.  He 
knew  my  tobacco  was  good,  and  he 
29 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

shoved  it  into  his  mouth  with  a  word 
of  thanks.  I  was  on  the  weather  side 
of  the  wheel. 

"  Go  forward  and  see  if  you  can  find 
Jim,"  I  said. 

He  started  a  little,  and  then  stepped 
back  and  passed  behind  me,  and  was 
going  along  the  weather  side.  Maybe  his 
silence  about  the  whistling  had  irritated 
me,  and  his  taking  it  for  granted  that 
because  we  were  hove  to  and  it  was  a 
dark  night,  he  might  go  forward  any 
way  he  pleased.  Anyhow,  I  stopped 
him,  though  I  spoke  good-naturedly 
enough. 

"Pass  to  leeward,  Jack,"  I  said. 

He  didn't  answer,  but  crossed  the 
deck  between  the  binnacle  and  the  deck 
house  to  the  lee  side.  She  was  only 
falling  off  and  coming  to,  and  riding  the 
big  seas  as  easily  as  possible,  but  the 
man  was  not  steady  on  his  feet  and 
reeled  against  the  corner  of  the  deck 
house  and  then  against  the  lee  rail.  I 
was  quite  sure  he  couldn't  have  had 
30 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

anything  to  drink,  for  neither  of  the 
brothers  were  the  kind  to  hide  rum 
from  their  shipmates,  if  they  had  any, 
and  the  only  spirits  that  were  aboard 
were  locked  up  in  the  captain's  cabin. 
I  wondered  whether  he  had  been  hit 
by  the  throat-halliard  block  and  was 
hurt. 

I  left  the  wheel  and  went  after  him, 
but  when  I  got  to  the  corner  of  the  deck 
house  I  saw  that  he  was  on  a  full  run 
forward,  so  I  went  back.  I  watched  the 
compass  for  a  while,  to  see  how  far  she 
went  off,  and  she  must  have  come  to 
again  half  a  dozen  times  before  I  heard 
voices,  more  than  three  or  four,  for 
ward  ;  and  then  I  heard  the  little  West 
Indies  cook's  voice,  high  and  shrill 
above  the  rest :  — 

"Man  overboard!" 

There  wasn't  anything  to  be  done, 
with  the  ship  hove-to  and  the  wheel 
lashed.  If  there  was  a  man  over 
board,  he  must  be  in  the  water  right 
alongside.  I  couldn't  imagine  how  it 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

could  have  happened,  but  I  ran  for 
ward  instinctively.  I  came  upon  the 
cook  first,  half-dressed  in  his  shirt  and 
trousers,  just  as  he  had  tumbled  out  of 
his  bunk.  He  was  jumping  into  the 
main  rigging,  evidently  hoping  to  see 
the  man,  as  if  any  one  could  have  seen 
anything  on  such  a  night,  except  the 
foam-streaks  on  the  black  water,  and  now 
and  then  the  curl  of  a  breaking  sea  as  it 
went  away  to  leeward.  Several  of  the 
men  were  peering  over  the  rail  into  the 
dark.  I  caught  the  cook  by  the  foot, 
and  asked  who  was  gone. 

"  It's  Jim  Benton,"  he  shouted  down 
to  me.  "He's  not  aboard  this  ship!" 

There  was  no  doubt  about  that.  Jim 
Benton  was  gone ;  and  I  knew  in  a  flash 
that  he  had  been  taken  off  by  that  sea 
when  we  were  setting  the  storm  trysail. 
It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  since  then ; 
she  had  run  like  wild  for  a  few  minutes 
until  we  got  her  hove-to,  and  no  swim 
mer  that  ever  swam  could  have  lived  as 
long  as  that  in  such  a  sea.  The  men 
32 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

knew  it  as  well  as  I,  but  still  they 
stared  into  the  foam  as  if  they  had  any 
chance  of  seeing  the  lost  man.  I  let 
the  cook  get  into  the  rigging  and  joined 
the  men,  and  asked  if  they  had  made 
a  thorough  search  on  board,  though  I 
knew  they  had  and  that  it  could  not 
take  long,  for  he  wasn't  on  deck,  and 
there  was  only  the  forecastle  below. 

"  That  sea  took  him  over,  sir,  as  sure 
as  you're  born,"  said  one  of  the  men 
close  beside  me. 

We  had  no  boat  that  could  have  lived 
in  that  sea,  of  course,  and  we  all  knew 
it.  I  offered  to  put  one  over,  and  let  her 
drift  astern  two  or  three  cable's-lengths 
by  a  line,  if  the  men  thought  they  could 
haul  me  aboard  again ;  but  none  of  them 
would  listen  to  that,  and  I  should  prob 
ably  have  been  drowned  if  I  had  tried 
it,  even  with  a  life-belt;  for  it  was  a 
breaking  sea.  Besides,  they  all  knew 
as  well  as  I  did  that  the  man  could 
not  be  right  in  our  wake.  I  don't  know 
why  I  spoke  again. 
D  33 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

"  Jack  Benton,  are  you  there  ?  Will 
you  go  if  I  will  ? " 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  a  voice;  and  that 
was  all. 

By  that  time  the  old  man  was  on 
deck,  and  I  felt  his  hand  on  my  shoul 
der  rather  roughly,  as  if  he  meant  to 
shake  me. 

"I'd  reckoned  you  had  more  sense, 
Mr.  Torkeldsen,"  he  said.  "  God  knows 
I  would  risk  my  ship  to  look  for  him, 
if  it  were  any  use ;  but  he  must  have 
gone  half  an  hour  ago." 

He  was  a  quiet  man,  and  the  men 
knew  he  was  right,  and  that  they  had 
seen  the  last  of  Jim  Benton  when  they 
were  bending  the  trysail  —  if  anybody 
had  seen  him  then.  The  captain  went 
below  again,  and  for  some  time  the  men 
stood  around  Jack,  quite  near  him,  with 
out  saying  anything,  as  sailors  do  when 
they  are  sorry  for  a  man  and  can't  help 
him ;  and  then  the  watch  below  turned 
in  again,  and  we  were  three  on  deck. 

Nobody  can  understand  that  there 
34 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

can  be  much  consolation  in  a  funeral, 
unless  he  has  felt  that  blank  feeling 
there  is  when  a  man's  gone  overboard 
whom  everybody  likes.  I  suppose 
landsmen  think  it  would  be  easier  if 
they  didn't  have  to  bury  their  fathers 
and  mothers  and  friends ;  but  it  wouldn't 
be.  Somehow  the  funeral  keeps  up 
the  idea  of  something  beyond.  You 
may  believe  in  that  something  just  the 
same ;  but  a  man  who  has  gone  in  the 
dark,  between  two  seas,  without  a  cry, 
seems  much  more  beyond  reach  than 
if  he  were  still  lying  on  his  bed,  and 
had  only  just  stopped  breathing.  Per 
haps  Jim  Benton  knew  that,  and  wanted 
to  come  back  to  us.  I  don't  know,  and 
I  am  only  telling  you  what  happened, 
and  you  may  think  what  you  like. 

Jack  stuck  by  the  wheel  that  night 
until  the  watch  was  over.  I  don't  know 
whether  he  slept  afterwards,  but  when 
I  came  on  deck  four  hours  later,  there 
he  was  again,  in  his  oilskins,  with  his 
sou'wester  over  his  eyes,  staring  into 
35 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

the  binnacle.  We  saw  that  he  would 
rather  stand  there,  and  we  left  him 
alone.  Perhaps  it  was  some  consola 
tion  to  him  to  get  that  ray  of  light 
when  everything  was  so  dark.  It  be 
gan  to  rain,  too,  as  it  can  when  a 
southerly  gale  is  going  to  break  up, 
and  we  got  every  bucket  and  tub  on 
board,  and  set  them  under  the  booms 
to  catch  the  fresh  water  for  washing 
our  clothes.  The  rain  made  it  very 
thick,  and  I  went  and  stood  under  the 
lee  of  the  staysail,  looking  out.  I  could 
tell  that  day  was  breaking,  because  the 
foam  was  whiter  in  the  dark  where  the 
seas  crested,  and  little  by  little  the 
black  rain  grew  grey  and  steamy,  and 
I  couldn't  see  the  red  glare  of  the 
port  light  on  the  water  when  she  went 
off  and  rolled  to  leeward.  The  gale 
had  moderated  considerably,  and  in 
another  hour  we  should  be  under  way 
again.  I  was  still  standing  there  when 
Jack  Benton  came  forward.  He  stood 
still  a  few  minutes  near  me.  The  rain 
36 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

came  down  in  a  solid  sheet,  and  I  could 
see  his  wet  beard  and  a  corner  of  his 
cheek,  too,  grey  in  the  dawn.  Then  he 
stooped  down  and  began  feeling  under 
the  anchor  for  his  pipe.  We  had  hardly 
shipped  any  water  forward,  and  I  sup 
pose  he  had  some  way  of  tucking  the 
pipe  in,  so  that  the  rain  hadn't  floated 
it  off.  Presently  he  got  on  his  legs 
again,  and  I  saw  that  he  had  two  pipes 
in  his  hand.  One  of  them  had  belonged 
to  his  brother,  and  after  looking  at  them 
a  moment  I  suppose  he  recognised  his 
own,  for  he  put  it  in  his  mouth,  dripping 
with  water.  Then  he  looked  at  the  other 
fully  a  minute  without  moving.  When 
he  had  made  up  his  mind,  I  suppose,  he 
quietly  chucked  it  over  the  lee  rail,  with 
out  even  looking  round  to  see  whether 
I  was  watching  him.  I  thought  it  was 
a  pity,  for  it  was  a  good  wooden  pipe, 
with  a  nickel  ferrule,  and  somebody 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  it.  But 
I  didn't  like  to  make  any  remark,  for 
he  had  a  right  to  do  what  he  pleased 
37 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

with  what  had  belonged  to  his  dead 
brother.  He  blew  the  water  out  of 
his  own  pipe,  and  dried  it  against  his 
jacket,  putting  his  hand  inside  his  oil 
skin  ;  he  filled  it,  standing  under  the 
lee  of  the  foremast,  got  a  light  after 
wasting  two  or  three  matches,  and 
turned  the  pipe  upside  down  in  his 
teeth,  to  keep  the  rain  out  of  the  bowl. 
I  don't  know  why  I  noticed  everything 
he  did,  and  remember  it  now ;  but  some 
how  I  felt  sorry  for  him,  and  I  kept 
wondering  whether  there  was  anything 
I  could  say  that  would  make  him  feel 
better.  But  I  didn't  think  of  anything, 
and  as  it  was  broad  daylight  I  went 
aft  again,  for  I  guessed  that  the  old 
man  would  turn  out  before  long  and 
order  the  spanker  set  and  the  helm 
up.  But  he  didn't  turn  out  before 
seven  bells,  just  as  the  clouds  broke 
and  showed  blue  sky  to  leeward  —  "  the 
Frenchman's  barometer,"  you  used  to 
call  it. 

Some  people  don't  seem  to  be  so  dead, 

38 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

when  they  are  dead,  as  others  are.  Jim 
Benton  was  like  that.  He  had  been  on 
my  watch,  and  I  couldn't  get  used  to  the 
idea  that  he  wasn't  about  decks  with  me. 
I  was  always  expecting  to  see  him,  and 
his  brother  was  so  exactly  like  him  that 
I  often  felt  as  if  I  did  see  him  and  forgot 
he  was  dead,  and  made  the  mistake  of 
calling  Jack  by  his  name;  though  I  tried 
not  to,  because  I  knew  it  must  hurt.  If 
ever  Jack  had  been  the  cheerful  one  of 
the  two,  as  I  had  always  supposed  he 
had  been,  he  had  changed  very  much, 
for  he  grew  to  be  more  silent  than  Jim 
had  ever  been. 

One  fine  afternoon  I  was  sitting  on 
the  main-hatch,  overhauling  the  clock 
work  of  the  taffrail-log,  which  hadn't 
been  registering  very  well  of  late,  and 
I  had  got  the  cook  to  bring  me  a  coffee- 
cup  to  hold  the  small  screws  as  I  took 
them  out,  and  a  saucer  for  the  sperm-oil 
I  was  going  to  use.  I  noticed  that  he 
didn't  go  away,  but  hung  round  without 
exactly  watching  what  I  was  doing,  as  if 

39 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

he  wanted  to  say  something  to  me.  I 
thought  if  it  were  worth  much  he  would 
say  it  anyhow,  so  I  didn't  ask  him  ques 
tions  ;  and  sure  enough  he  began  of 
his  own  accord  before  long.  There 
was  nobody  on  deck  but  the  man  at 
the  wheel,  and  the  other  man  away  for 
ward. 

"  Mr.  Torkeldsen,"  the  cook  began, 
and  then  stopped. 

I  supposed  he  was  going  to  ask  me  to 
let  the  watch  break  out  a  barrel  of  flour, 
or  some  salt  horse. 

"Well,  doctor  ?  "  I  asked,  as  he  didn't 
go  on. 

"Well,  Mr.  Torkeldsen,"  he  answered, 
"  I  somehow  want  to  ask  you  whether 
you  think  I  am  giving  satisfaction  on 
this  ship,  or  not  ? " 

"  So  far  as  I  know,  you  are,  doctor. 
I  haven't  heard  any  complaints  from  the 
forecastle,  and  the  captain  has  said  noth 
ing,  and  I  think  you  know  your  business, 
and  the  cabin-boy  is  bursting  out  of  his 
clothes.  That  looks  as  if  you  are  giving 
40 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

satisfaction.  What  makes  you  think  you 
are  not  ? " 

I  am  not  good  at  giving  you  that  West 
Indies  talk,  and  sha'n't  try ;  but  the 
doctor  beat  about  the  bush  awhile,  and 
then  he  told  me  he  thought  the  men  were 
beginning  to  play  tricks  on  him,  and 
he  didn't  like  it,  and  thought  he  hadn't 
deserved  it,  and  would  like  his  discharge 
at  our  next  port.  I  told  him  he  was  a 

d d  fool,  of  course,  to  begin  with; 

and  that  men  were  more  apt  to  try  a 
joke  with  a  chap  they  liked  than  with 
anybody  they  wanted  to  get  rid  of ;  un 
less  it  was  a  bad  joke,  like  flooding  his 
bunk,  or  filling  his  boots  with  tar.  But 
it  wasn't  that  kind  of  practical  joke. 
The  doctor  said  that  the  men  were  try 
ing  to  frighten  him,  and  he  didn't  like 
it,  and  that  they  put  things  in  his  way 
that  frightened  him.  So  I  told  him  he 

was   a   d d   fool   to   be   frightened, 

anyway,  and  I  wanted  to  know  what 
things  they  put  in  his  way.  He  gave 
me  a  queer  answer.  He  said  they  were 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

spoons  and  forks,  and  odd  plates,  and  a 
cup  now  and  then,  and  such  things. 

I  set  down  the  taffrail-log  on  the  bit 
of  canvas  I  had  put  under  it,  and  looked 
at  the  doctor.  He  was  uneasy,  and  his 
eyes  had  a  sort  of  hunted  look,  and  his 
yellow  face  looked  grey.  He  wasn't 
trying  to  make  trouble.  He  was  in 
trouble.  So  I  asked  him  questions. 

He  said   he   could   count  as  well  as 
anybody,  and  do  sums  without  using  his 
fingers,  but  that  when  he  couldn't  count 
any  other  way  he   did  use  his  fingers, 
and  it  always  came  out  the  same.     He 
said   that  when   he   and   the  cabin-boy 
cleared  up  after  the  men's  meals  there 
were  more  things  to  wash  than  he  had 
given  out.     There'd  be  a  fork  more,  or 
there'd  be  a  spoon  more,  and  sometimes 
there'd  be  a  spoon  and  a  fork,  and  there 
was   always   a   plate   more.     It  wasn't 
that  he   complained   of   that.      Before 
poor  Jim   Benton  was  lost  they  had  a 
man  more  to  feed,  and  his  gear  to  wash 
up  after  meals,  and  that  was  in  the  con- 
42 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

tract,  the  doctor  said.  It  would  have 
been  if  there  were  twenty  in  the  ship's 
company;  but  he  didn't  think  it  was 
right  for  the  men  to  play  tricks  like 
that.  He  kept  his  things  in  good  order, 
and  he  counted  them,  and  he  was  re 
sponsible  for  them,  and  it  wasn't  right 
that  the  men  should  take  more  things 
than  they  needed  when  his  back  was 
turned,  and  just  soil  them  and  mix  them 
up  with  their  own,  so  as  to  make  him 
think  — 

He  stopped  there,  and  looked  at  me, 
and  I  looked  at  him.  I  didn't  know 
what  he  thought,  but  I  began  to  guess. 
I  wasn't  going  to  humour  any  such  non 
sense  as  that,  so  I  told  him  to  speak  to 
the  men  himself,  and  not  come  bother 
ing  me  about  such  things. 

"Count  the  plates  and  forks  and 
spoons  before  them  when  they  sit  down 
to  table,  and  tell  them  that's  all  they'll 
get ;  and  when  they  have  finished,  count 
the  things  again,  and  if  the  count  isn't 
right,  find  out  who  did  it.  You  know  it 

43 


MAN   OVERBOARD! 


must  be  one  of  them.  You're  not  a 
green  hand;  you've  been  going  to  sea 
ten  or  eleven  years,  and  don't  want  any 
lesson  about  how  to  behave  if  the  boys 
play  a  trick  on  you." 

"  If  I  could  catch  him,"  said  the  cook, 
"  I'd  have  a  knife  into  him  before  he 
could  say  his  prayers." 

Those  West  India  men  are  always 
talking  about  knives,  especially  when 
they  are  badly  frightened.  I  knew  what 
he  meant,  and  didn't  ask  him,  but  went 
on  cleaning  the  brass  cogwheels  of  the 
patent  log  and  oiling  the  bearings  with 
a  feather.  "Wouldn't  it  be  better  to 
wash  it  out  with  boiling  water,  sir  ? " 
asked  the  cook,  in  an  insinuating  tone. 
He  knew  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself,  and  was  anxious  to  make  it 
right  again. 

I  heard  no  more  about  the  odd  platter 
and  gear  for  two  or  three  days,  though 
I  thought  about  his  story  a  good  deal. 
The  doctor  evidently  believed  that  Jim 
Benton  had  come  back,  though  he  didn't 
44 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

quite  like  to  say  so.  His  story  had 
sounded  silly  enough  on  a  bright  after 
noon,  in  fair  weather,  when  the  sun  was 
on  the  water,  and  every  rag  was  draw 
ing  in  the  breeze,  and  the  sea  looked  as 
pleasant  and  harmless  as  a  cat  that  has 
just  eaten  a  canary.  But  when  it  was 
toward  the  end  of  the  first  watch,  and 
the  waning  moon  had  not  risen  yet,  and 
the  water  was  like  still  oil,  and  the  jibs 
hung  down  flat  and  helpless  like  the 
wings  of  a  dead  bird  —  it  wasn't  the 
same  then.  More  than  once  I  have 
started  then,  and  looked  round  when  a 
fish  jumped,  expecting  to  see  a  face 
sticking  up  out  of  the  water  with  its 
eyes  shut.  I  think  we  all  felt  something 
like  that  at  the  time. 

One  afternoon  we  were  putting  a 
fresh  service  on  the  jib-sheet-pennant. 
It  wasn't  my  watch,  but  I  was  standing 
by  looking  on.  Just  then  Jack  Benton 
came  up  from  below,  and  went  to  look 
for  his  pipe  under  the  anchor.  His 
face  was  hard  and  drawn,  and  his  eyes 
45 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

were  cold  like  steel  balls.  He  hardly 
ever  spoke  now,  but  he  did  his  duty 
as  usual,  and  nobody  had  to  complain 
of  him,  though  we  were  all  beginning 
to  wonder  how  long  his  grief  for  his 
dead  brother  was  going  to  last  like 
that.  I  watched  him  as  he  crouched 
down,  and  ran  his  hand  into  the  hiding- 
place  for  the  pipe.  When  he  stood  up, 
he  had  two  pipes  in  his  hand. 

Now,  I  remembered  very  well  seeing 
him  throw  one  of  those  pipes  away, 
early  in  the  morning  after  the  gale; 
and  it  came  to  me  now,  and  I  didn't 
suppose  he  kept  a  stock  of  them  under 
the  anchor.  I  caught  sight  of  his  face, 
and  it  was  greenish  white,  like  the  foam 
on  shallow  water,  and  he  stood  a  long 
time  looking  at  the  two  pipes.  He 
wasn't  looking  to  see  which  was  his, 
for  I  wasn't  five  yards  from  him  as 
he  stood,  and  one  of  those  pipes  had 
been  smoked  that  day,  and  was  shiny 
where  his  hand  had  rubbed  it,  and  the 
bone  mouthpiece  was  chafed  white 
46 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

where  his  teeth  had  bitten  it.  The 
other  was  water-logged.  It  was  swelled 
and  cracking  with  wet,  and  it  looked  to 
me  as  if  there  were  a  little  green  weed 
on  it. 

Jack  Benton  turned  his  head  rather 
stealthily  as  I  looked  away,  and  then 
he  hid  the  thing  in  his  trousers  pocket, 
and  went  aft  on  the  lee  side,  out  of 
sight.  The  men  had  got  the  sheet 
pennant  on  a  stretch  to  serve  it,  but  I 
ducked  under  it  and  stood  where  I  could 
see  what  Jack  did,  just  under  the  fore- 
staysail.  He  couldn't  see  me,  and  he 
was  looking  about  for  something.  His 
hand  shook  as  he  picked  up  a  bit  of 
half-bent  iron  rod,  about  a  foot  long, 
that  had  been  used  for  turning  an  eye- 
bolt,  and  had  been  left  on  the  main- 
hatch.  His  hand  shook  as  he  got  a 
piece  of  marline  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
made  the  water-logged  pipe  fast  to  the 
iron.  He  didn't  mean  it  to  get  adrift, 
either,  for  he  took  his  turns  carefully, 
and  hove  them  taut  and  then  rode 
47 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

them,  so  that  they  couldn't  slip,  and  made 
the  end  fast  with  two  half-hitches  round 
the  iron,  and  hitched  it  back  on  itself. 
Then  he  tried  it  with  his  hands,  and 
looked  up  and  down  the  deck  furtively, 
and  then  quietly  dropped  the  pipe  and 
iron  over  the  rail,  so  that  I  didn't  even 
hear  the  splash.  If  anybody  was  play 
ing  tricks  on  board,  they  weren't  meant 
for  the  cook. 

I  asked  some  questions  about  Jack 
Benton,  and  one  of  the  men  told  me 
that  he  was  off  his  feed,  and  hardly 
ate  anything,  and  swallowed  all  the 
coffee  he  could  lay  his  hands  on,  and 
had  used  up  all  his  own  tobacco  and 
had  begun  on  what  his  brother  had 
left. 

"The  doctor  says  it  ain't  so,  sir," 
said  the  man,  looking  at  me  shyly,  as 
if  he  didn't  expect  to  be  believed ;  "  the 
doctor  says  there's  as  much  eaten  from 
breakfast  to  breakfast  as  there  was 
before  Jim  fell  overboard,  though  there's 
a  mouth  less  and  another  that  eats  noth- 
48 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

ing.  I  says  it's  the  cabin-boy  that  gets 
it.  He's  bursting." 

I  told  him  that  if  the  cabin-boy  ate 
more  than  his  share,  he  must  work 
more  than  his  share,  so  as  to  balance 
things.  But  the  man  laughed  queerly, 
and  looked  at  me  again. 

"  I  only  said  that,  sir,  just  like  that. 
We  all  know  it  ain't  so." 

"Well,  how  is  it?" 

"  How  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  man,  half- 
angry  all  at  once.  "  I  don't  know  how 
it  is,  but  there's  a  hand  on  board  that's 
getting  his  whack  along  with  us  as  reg 
ular  as  the  bells." 

"Does  he  use  tobacco?"  I  asked, 
meaning  to  laugh  it  out  of  him,  but  as 
I  spoke  I  remembered  the  water-logged 
pipe. 

"  I  guess  he's  using  his  own  still," 
the  man  answered,  in  a  queer,  low  voice. 
"  Perhaps  he'll  take  some  one  else's  when 
his  is  all  gone." 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  I  remember,  for  just  then  the 
E  49 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

captain  called  to  me  to  stand  by  the 
chronometer  while  he  took  his  fore 
observation.  Captain  Hackstaff  wasn't 
one  of  those  old  skippers  who  do  every 
thing  themselves  with  a  pocket  watch, 
and  keep  the  key  of  the  chronometer  in 
their  waistcoat  pocket,  and  won't  tell  the 
mate  how  far  the  dead  reckoning  is  out. 
He  was  rather  the  other  way,  and  I 
was  glad  of  it,  for  he  generally  let  me 
work  the  sights  he  took,  and  just  ran 
his  eye  over  my  figures  afterwards.  I 
am  bound  to  say  his  eye  was  pretty 
good,  for  he  would  pick  out  a  mistake  in 
a  logarithm,  or  tell  me  that  I  had  worked 
the  "  Equation  of  Time  "  with  the  wrong 
sign,  before  it  seemed  to  me  that  he 
could  have  got  as  far  as  "  half  the  sum, 
minus  the  altitude."  He  was  always 
right,  too,  and  besides  he  knew  a  lot 
about  iron  ships  and  local  deviation,  and 
adjusting  the  compass,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  I  don't  know  how  he  came 
to  be  in  command  of  a  fore-and-aft 
schooner.  He  never  talked  about  him- 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

self,  and  maybe  he  had  just  been  mate 
on  one  of  those  big  steel  square-riggers, 
and  something  had  put  him  back.  Per 
haps  he  had  been  captain,  and  had  got 
his  ship  aground,  through  no  particular 
fault  of  his,  and  had  to  begin  over  again. 
Sometimes  he  talked  just  like  you  and 
me,  and  sometimes  he  would  speak 
more  like  books  do,  or  some  of  those 
Boston  people  I  have  heard.  I  don't 
know.  We  have  all  been  shipmates 
now  and  then  with  men  who  have  seen 
better  days.  Perhaps  he  had  been  in 
the  Navy,  but  what  makes  me  think  he 
couldn't  have  been,  was  that  he  was  a 
thorough  good  seaman,  a  regular  old 
wind-jammer,  and  understood  sail,  which 
those  Navy  chaps  rarely  do.  Why, 
you  and  I  have  sailed  with  men  before 
the  mast  who  had  their  master's  certifi 
cates  in  their  pockets,  —  English  Board 
of  Trade  certificates,  too,  —  who  could 
work  a  double  altitude  if  you  would  lend 
them  a  sextant  and  give  them  a  look 
at  the  chronometer,  as  well  as  many  a 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

man  who  commands  a  big  square-rigger. 
Navigation  ain't  everything,  nor  sea 
manship,  either.  You've  got  to  have  it 
in  you,  if  you  mean  to  get  there. 

I  don't  know  how  our  captain  heard 
that  there  was  trouble  forward.  The 
cabin-boy  may  have  told  him,  or  the 
men  may  have  talked  outside  his  door 
when  they  relieved  the  wheel  at  night. 
Anyhow,  he  got  wind  of  it,  and  when 
he  had  got  his  sight  that  morning  he 
had  all  hands  aft,  and  gave  them  a  lec 
ture.  It  was  just  the  kind  of  talk  you 
might  have  expected  from  him.  He 
said  he  hadn't  any  complaint  to  make, 
and  that  so  far  as  he  knew  everybody 
on  board  was  doing  his  duty,  and  that 
he  was  given  to  understand  that  the 
men  got  their  whack,  and  were  satis 
fied.  He  said  his  ship  was  never  a 
hard  ship,  and  that  he  liked  quiet,  and 
that  was  the  reason  he  didn't  mean  to 
have  any  nonsense,  and  the  men  might 
just  as  well  understand  that,  too.  We'd 
had  a  great  misfortune,  he  said,  and  it 
52 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

was  nobody's  fault.  We  had  lost  a  man 
we  all  liked  and  respected,  and  he  felt 
that  everybody  in  the  ship  ought  to  be 
sorry  for  the  man's  brother,  who  was 
left  behind,  and  that  it  was  rotten  lub 
berly  childishness,  and  unjust  and  un 
manly  and  cowardly,  to  be  playing 
schoolboy  tricks  with  forks  and  spoons 
and  pipes,  and  that  sort  of  gear.  He 
said  it  had  got  to  stop  right  now,  and 
that  was  all,  and  the  men  might  go  for 
ward.  And  so  they  did. 

It  got  worse  after  that,  and  the  men 
watched  the  cook,  and  the  cook  watched 
the  men,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  catch 
each  other;  but  I  think  everybody  felt 
that  there  was  something  else.  One 
evening,  at  supper-time,  I  was  on  deck, 
and  Jack  came  aft  to  relieve  the  wheel 
while  the  man  who  was  steering  got  his 
supper.  He  hadn't  got  past  the  main- 
hatch  "on  the  lee  side,  when  I  heard  a 
man  running  in  slippers  that  slapped  on 
the  deck,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  a  yell 
and  I  saw  the  coloured  cook  going  for 

53 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

Jack,  with  a  carving-knife  in  his  hand. 
I  jumped  to  get  between  them,  and 
Jack  turned  round  short,  and  put  out 
his  hand.  I  was  too  far  to  reach  them, 
and  the  cook  jabbed  out  with  his  knife. 
But  the  blade  didn't  get  anywhere  near 
Benton.  The  cook  seemed  to  be  jab 
bing  it  into  the  air  again  and  again,  at 
least  four  feet  short  of  the  mark.  Then 
he  dropped  his  right  hand,  and  I  saw 
the  whites  of  his  eyes  in  the  dusk,  and 
he  reeled  up  against  the  pin-rail,  and 
caught  hold  of  a  belaying-pin  with 
his  left.  I  had  reached  him  by  that 
time,  and  grabbed  hold  of  his  knife- 
hand  and  the  other  too,  for  I  thought  he 
was  going  to  use  the  pin ;  but  Jack 
Benton  was  standing  staring  stupidly  at 
him,  as  if  he  didn't  understand.  But 
instead,  the  cook  was  holding  on  be 
cause  he  couldn't  stand,  and  his  teeth 
were  chattering,  and  he  let  go  of  the 
knife,  and  the  point  stuck  into  the  deck. 
"  He's  crazy  !  "  said  Jack  Benton,  and 
that  was  all  he  said ;  and  he  went  aft. 
54 


HE  LET  GO  OF  THE  KNIFE,  AND  THE   POINT  STUCK 
INTO  THE   DECK. 


Ail-*1  £10" 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

When  he  was  gone,  the  cook  began 
to  come  to,  and  he  spoke  quite  low,  near 
my  ear. 

"  There  were  two  of  them  !  So  help 
me  God,  there  were  two  of  them  ! " 

I  don't  know  why  I  didn't  take  him 
by  the  collar,  and  give  him  a  good  shak 
ing;  but  I  didn't.  I  just  picked  up  the 
knife  and  gave  it  to  him,  and  told  him 
to  go  back  to  his  galley,  and  not  to 
make  a  fool  of  himself.  You  see,  he 
hadn't  struck  at  Jack,  but  at  something 
he  thought  he  saw,  and  I  knew  what  it 
was,  and  I  felt  that  same  thing,  like  a 
lump  of  ice  sliding  down  my  back,  that 
I  felt  that  night  when  we  were  bending 
the  trysail. 

When  the  men  had  seen  him  running 
aft,  they  jumped  up  after  him,  but  they 
held  off  when  they  saw  that  I  had  caught 
him.  By  and  by,  the  man  who  had 
spoken  to  me  before  told  me  what  had 
happened.  He  was  a  stocky  little  chap, 
with  a  red  head. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  there  isn't  much  to 
55 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

tell.  Jack  Benton  had  been  eating  his 
supper  with  the  rest  of  us.  He  always 
sits  at  the  after  corner  of  the  table,  on 
the  port  side.  His  brother  used  to  sit 
at  the  end,  next  him.  The  doctor  gave 
him  a  thundering  big  piece  of  pie  to 
finish  up  with,  and  when  he  had  finished 
he  didn't  stop  for  a  smoke,  but  went  off 
quick  to  relieve  the  wheel.  Just  as  he 
had  gone,  the  doctor  came  in  from  the 
galley,  and  when  he  saw  Jack's  empty 
plate  he  stood  stock  still  staring  at  it; 
and  we  all  wondered  what  was  the  mat 
ter,  till  we  looked  at  the  plate.  There 
were  two  forks  in  it,  sir,  lying  side. by 
side.  Then  the  doctor  grabbed  his  knife, 
and  flew  up  through  the  hatch  like  a 
rocket.  The  other  fork  was  there  all 
right,  Mr.  Torkeldsen,  for  we  all  saw 
it  and  handled  it;  and  we  all  had  our 
own.  That's  all  I  know." 

I  didn't  feel  that  I  wanted  to  laugh 

when  he  told  me  that  story  ;  but  I  hoped 

the  old  man  wouldn't  hear  it,  for  I  knew 

he  wouldn't  believe  it,  and  no  captain 

56 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

that  ever  sailed  likes  to  have  stories  like 
that  going  round  about  his  ship.  It  gives 
her  a  bad  name.  But  that  was  all  any 
body  ever  saw  except  the  cook,  and  he 
isn't  the  first  man  who  has  thought  he  saw 
things  without  having  any  drink  in  him. 
I  think,  if  the  doctor  had  been  weak  in 
the  head  as  he  was  afterwards,  he  might 
have  done  something  foolish  again,  and 
there  might  have  been  serious  trouble. 
But  he  didn't.  Only,  two  or  three  times 
I  saw  him  looking  at  Jack  Benton  in  a 
queer,  scared  way,  and  once  I  heard 
him  talking  to  himself. 

"  There's  two  of  them !  So  help  me 
God,  there's  two  of  them  !  " 

He  didn't  say  anything  more  about 
asking  for  his  discharge,  but  I  knew  well 
enough  that  if  he  got  ashore  at  the  next 
port  we  should  never  see  him  again,  if  he 
had  to  leave  his  kit  behind  him,  and  his 
money,  too.  He  was  scared  all  through, 
for  good  and  all;  and  he  wouldn't  be 
right  again  till  he  got  another  ship.  It's 
no  use  to  talk  to  a  man  when  he  gets 
57 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

like  that,  any  more  than  it  is  to  send  a 
boy  to  the  main  truck  when  he  has  lost 
his  nerve. 

Jack  Benton  never  spoke  of  what  hap 
pened  that  evening.  I  don't  know  whether 
he  knew  about  the  two  forks,  or  not ;  or 
whether  he  understood  what  the  trouble 
was.  Whatever  he  knew  from  the  other 
men,  he  was  evidently  living  under  a 
hard  strain.  He  was  quiet  enough,  and 
too  quiet;  but  his  face  was  set,  and 
sometimes  it  twitched  oddly  when  he 
was  at  the  wheel,  and  he  would  turn  his 
head  round  sharp  to  look  behind  him. 
A  man  doesn't  do  that  naturally,  unless 
there's  a  vessel  that  he  thinks  is  creep 
ing  up  on  the  quarter.  When  that  hap 
pens,  if  the  man  at  the  wheel  takes  a  pride 
in  his  ship,  he  will  almost  always  keep 
glancing  over  his  shoulder  to  see  whether 
the  other  fellow  is  gaining.  But  Jack 
Benton  used  to  look  round  when  there 
was  nothing  there ;  and  what  is  curious, 
the  other  men  seemed  to  catch  the 
trick  when  they  were  steering.  One 

58 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

day  the  old  man  turned  out  just  as  the 
man  at  the  wheel  looked  behind  him. 

"What  are  you  looking  at?"  asked 
the  captain. 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  answered  the  man. 

"  Then  keep  your  eye  on  the  mizzen- 
royal,"  said  the  old  man,  as  if  he  were 
forgetting  that  we  weren't  a  square- 
rigger. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  man. 

The  captain  told  me  to  go  below  and 
work  up  the  latitude  from  the  dead-reck 
oning,  and  he  went  forward  of  the  deck 
house  and  sat  down  to  read,  as  he  often 
did.  When  I  came  up,  the  man  at  the 
wheel  was  looking  round  again,  and  I 
stood  beside  him  and  just  asked  him 
quietly  what  everybody  was  looking  at, 
for  it  was  getting  to  be  a  general  habit. 
He  wouldn't  say  anything  at  first,  but 
just  answered  that  it  was  nothing.  But 
when  he  saw  that  I  didn't  seem  to  care, 
and  just  stood  there  as  if  there  were 
nothing  more  to  be  said,  he  naturally 
began  to  talk. 

59 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

He  said  that  it  wasn't  that  he  saw  any 
thing,  because  there  wasn't  anything  to 
see  except  the  spanker  sheet  just  strain 
ing  a  little,  and  working  in  the  sheaves 
of  the  blocks  as  the  schooner  rose  to  the 
short  seas.  There  wasn't  anything  to  be 
seen,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  sheet 
made  a  queer  noise  in  the  blocks.  It 
was  a  new  manilla  sheet;  and  in  dry 
weather  it  did  make  a  little  noise,  some 
thing  between  a  creak  and  a  wheeze.  I 
looked  at  it  and  looked  at  the  man,  and 
said  nothing ;  and  presently  he  went  on. 
He  asked  me  if  I  didn't  notice  anything 
peculiar  about  the  noise.  I  listened 
awhile,  and  said  I  didn't  notice  anything. 
Then  he  looked  rather  sheepish,  but  said 
he  didn't  think  it  could  be  his  own  ears, 
because  every  man  who  steered  his  trick 
heard  the  same  thing  now  and  then,  — 
sometimes  once  in  a  day,  sometimes  once 
in  a  night,  sometimes  it  would  go  on  a 
whole  hour. 

"  It  sounds  like  sawing  wood,"  I  said, 
just  like  that. 

60 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

"To  us  it  sounds  a  good  deal  more 
like  a  man  whistling  '  Nancy  Lee.'  "  He 
started  nervously  as  he  spoke  the  last 
words.  "  There,  sir,  don't  you  hear  it  ?  " 
he  asked  suddenly. 

I  heard  nothing  but  the  creaking  of 
the  manilla  sheet.  It  was  getting  near 
noon,  and  fine,  clear  weather  in  southern 
waters, — just  the  sort  of  day  and  the 
time  when  you  would  least  expect  to  feel 
creepy.  But  I  remembered  how  I  had 
heard  that  same  tune  overhead  at  night 
in  a  gale  of  wind  a  fortnight  earlier,  and 
I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  the  same 
sensation  came  over  me  now,  and  I 
wished  myself  well  out  of  the  Helen  B., 
and  aboard  of  any  old  cargo-dragger, 
with  a  windmill  on  deck,  and  an  eighty- 
nine-f orty-eighter  for  captain,  and  a  fresh 
leak  whenever  it  breezed  up. 

Little  by  little  during  the  next  few 
days  life  on  board  that  vessel  came  to 
be  about  as  unbearable  as  you  can  im 
agine.  It  wasn't  that  there  was  much 
talk,  for  I  think  the  men  were  shy  even 
61 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

of  speaking  to  each  other  freely  about 
what  they  thought.  The  whole  ship's 
company  grew  silent,  until  one  hardly 
ever  heard  a  voice,  except  giving  an 
order  and  the  answer.  The  men  didn't 
sit  over  their  meals  when  their  watch 
was  below,  but  either  turned  in  at  once 
or  sat  about  on  the  forecastle  smoking 
their  pipes  without  saying  a  word.  We 
were  all  thinking  of  the  same  thing. 
We  all  felt  as  if  there  were  a  hand  on 
board,  sometimes  below,  sometimes  about 
decks,  sometimes  aloft,  sometimes  on  the 
boom  end ;  taking  his  full  share  of  what 
the  others  got,  but  doing  no  work  for  it. 
We  didn't  only  feel  it,  we  knew  it.  He 
took  up  no  room,  he  cast  no  shadow,  and 
we  never  heard  his  footfall  on  deck; 
but  he  took  his  whack  with  the  rest  as 
regular  as  the  bells,  and  —  he  whistled 
"Nancy  Lee."  It  was  like  the  worst 
sort  of  dream  you  can  imagine ;  and  I 
dare  say  a  good  many  of  us  tried  to  be 
lieve  it  was  nothing  else  sometimes,  when 
we  stood  looking  over  the  weather  rail  in 
62 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

fine  weather  with  the  breeze  in  our  faces ; 
but  if  we  happened  to  turn  round  and 
look  into  each  other's  eyes,  we  knew  it 
was  something  worse  than  any  dream 
could  be ;  and  we  would  turn  away  from 
each  other  with  a  queer,  sick  feeling, 
wishing  that  we  could  just  for  once  see 
somebody  who  didn't  know  what  we 
knew. 

There's  not  much  more  to  tell  about 
the  Helen  B.  Jackson  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned.  We  were  more  like  a  ship 
load  of  lunatics  than  anything  else 
when  we  ran  in  under  Morro  Castle, 
and  anchored  in  Havana.  The  cook 
had  brain  fever,  and  was  raving  mad 
in  his  delirium ;  and  the  rest  of  the 
men  weren't  far  from  the  same  state. 
The  last  three  or  four  days  had  been 
awful,  and  we  had  been  as  near  to  hav 
ing  a  mutiny  on  board  as  I  ever  want 
to  be.  The  men  didn't  want  to  hurt 
anybody ;  but  they  wanted  to  get  away 
out  of  that  ship,  if  they  had  to  swim 
for  it ;  to  get  away  from  that  whistling, 

63 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

from  that  dead  shipmate  who  had  come 
back,  and  who  filled  the  ship  with  his 
unseen   self.      I   know  that  if   the  old 
man  and  I  hadn't  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
the   men  would   have   put  a  boat  over 
quietly  on   one   of   those   calm   nights, 
and    pulled   away,   leaving   the  captain 
and  me  and  the  mad  cook  to  work  the 
schooner  into  harbour.    We  should  have 
done   it    somehow,    of    course,   for   we 
hadn't   far  to   run   if   we    could   get   a 
breeze ;  and  once  or  twice  I  found  my 
self  wishing  that  the  crew  were  really 
gone,    for    the    awful    state   of    fright 
in    which    they    lived    was    beginning 
to  work  on  me  too.     You  see  I  partly 
believed  and  partly  didn't ;  but  anyhow 
I  didn't  mean  to  let  the  thing  get  the 
better    of    me,    whatever    it    was.       I 
turned  crusty,  too,  and   kept   the  men 
at    work    on    all    sorts    of    jobs,    and 
drove   them   to   it  until  they  wished   I 
was  overboard,  too.     It  wasn't  that  the 
old   man   and   I  were   trying  to   drive 
them   to   desert  without   their   pay,  as 
64 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

I  am  sorry  to  say  a  good  many  skip 
pers  and  mates  do,  even  now.  Captain 
Hackstaff  was  as  straight  as  a  string, 
and  I  didn't  mean  those  poor  fellows 
should  be  cheated  out  of  a  single  cent ; 
and  I  didn't  blame  them  for  wanting  to 
leave  the  ship,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  only  chance  to  keep  everybody  sane 
through  those  last  days  was  to  work  the 
men  till  they  dropped.  When  they  were 
dead  tired  they  slept  a  little,  and  forgot 
the  thing  until  they  had  to  tumble  up  on 
deck  and  face  it  again.  That  was  a  good 
many  years  ago.  Do  you  believe  that  I 
can't  hear  "  Nancy  Lee  "  now,  without 
feeling  cold  down  my  back  ?  For  I  heard 
it  too,  now  and  then,  after  the  man  had 
explained  why  he  was  always  looking 
over  his  shoulder.  Perhaps  it  was 
imagination.  I  don't  know.  When 
I  look  back  it  seems  to  me  that  I  only 
remember  a  long  fight  against  some 
thing  I  couldn't  see,  against  an  appall 
ing  presence,  against  something  worse 
than  cholera  or  Yellow  Jack  or  the 
F  65 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

plague  —  and  goodness  knows  the  mild 
est  of  them  is  bad  enough  when  it 
breaks  out  at  sea.  The  men  got  as 
white  as  chalk,  and  wouldn't  go  about 
decks  alone  at  night,  no  matter  what  I 
said  to  them.  With  the  cook  raving  in 
his  bunk  the  forecastle  would  have  been 
a  perfect  hell,  and  there  wasn't  a  spare 
cabin  on  board.  There  never  is  on  a 
fore-and-after.  So  I  put  him  into  mine, 
and  he  was  more  quiet  there,  and  at 
last  fell  into  a  sort  of  stupor  as  if  he 
were  going  to  die.  I  don't  know  what 
became  of  him,  for  we  put  him  ashore 
alive  and  left  him  in  the  hospital. 

The  men  came  aft  in  a  body,  quiet 
enough,  and  asked  the  captain  if  he 
wouldn't  pay  them  off,  and  let  them  go 
ashore.  Some  men  wouldn't  have  done 
it,  for  they  had  shipped  for  the  voyage, 
and  had  signed  articles.  But  the  cap 
tain  knew  that  when  sailors  get  an  idea 
into  their  heads  they're  no  better  than 
children  ;  and  if  he  forced  them  to  stay 
aboard  he  wouldn't  get  much  work  out 
66 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

of  them,  and  couldn't  rely  on  them  in  a 
difficulty.  So  he  paid  them  off,  and  let 
them  go.  When  they  had  gone  forward 
to  get  their  kits,  he  asked  me  whether  I 
wanted  to  go  too,  and  for  a  minute  I  had 
a  sort  of  weak  feeling  that  I  might  just 
as  well.  But  I  didn't,  and  he  was  a  good 
friend  to  me  afterwards.  Perhaps  he 
was  grateful  to  me  for  sticking  to  him. 

When  the  men  went  off  he  didn't 
come  on  deck ;  but  it  was  my  duty  to 
stand  by  while  they  left  the  ship.  They 
owed  me  a  grudge  for  making  them 
work  during  the  last  few  days,  and  most 
of  them  dropped  into  the  boat  without 
so  much  as  a  word  or  a  look,  as  sailors 
will.  Jack  Benton  was  the  last  to  go  over 
the  side,  and  he  stood  still  a  minute  and 
looked  at  me,  and  his  white  face  twitched. 
I  thought  he  wanted  to  say  something. 

"  Take  care  of  yourself,  Jack,"  said  I. 
"So  long!" 

It  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't  speak  for 
two  or  three  seconds ;  then  his  words 
came  thick. 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault,  Mr.  Torkeldsen. 
I  swear  it  wasn't  my  fault !  " 

That  was  all;  and  he  dropped  over 
the  side,  leaving  me  to  wonder  what  he 
meant. 

The  captain  and  I  stayed  on  board, 
and  the  ship-chandler  got  a  West  India 
boy  to  cook  for  us. 

That  evening,  before  turning  in,  we 
were  standing  by  the  rail  having  a  quiet 
smoke,  watching  the  lights  of  the  city, 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  reflected  in  the 
still  water.  There  was  music  of  some 
sort  ashore,  in  a  sailors'  dance-house, 
I  dare  say ;  and  I  had  no  doubt  that 
most  of  the  men  who  had  left  the  ship 
were  there,  and  already  full  of  jiggy- 
jiggy.  The  music  played  a  lot  of  sail 
ors'  tunes  that  ran  into  each  other,  and 
we  could  hear  the  men's  voices  in  the 
chorus  now  and  then.  One  followed 
another,  and  then  it  was  "  Nancy  Lee," 
loud  and  clear,  and  the  men  singing 
"  Yo-ho,  heave-ho  !  " 

"  I  have  no  ear  for  music,"  said  Cap- 
68 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

tain  Hackstaff,  "but  it  appears  to  me 
that's  the  tune  that  man  was  whistling 
the  night  we  lost  the  man  overboard. 
I  don't  know  why  it  has  stuck  in  my 
head,  and  of  course  it's  all  nonsense; 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard  it 
all  the  rest  of  the  trip." 

I  didn't  say  anything  to  that,  but  I 
wondered  just  how  much  the  old  man 
had  understood.  Then  we  turned  in, 
and  I  slept  ten  hours  without  opening 
my  eyes. 

I  stuck  to  the  Helen  B.  Jackson  after 
that  as  long  as  I  could  stand  a  fore-and- 
after;  but  that  night  when  we  lay  in 
Havana  was  the  last  time  I  ever  heard 
"  Nancy  Lee  "  on  board  of  her.  The 
spare  hand  had  gone  ashore  with  the 
rest,  and  he  never  came  back,  and  he 
took  his  tune  with  him ;  but  all  those 
things  are  just  as  clear  in  my  memory 
as  if  they  had  happened  yesterday. 

After  that  I  was  in  deep  water  for  a 
year  or  more,  and  after  I  came  home  I 
got  my  certificate,  and  what  with  having 
69 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

friends  and  having  saved  a  little  money, 
and  having  had  a  small  legacy  from  an 
uncle  in  Norway,  I  got  the  command  of 
a  coastwise  vessel,  with  a  small  share  in 
her.  I  was  at  home  three  weeks  before 
going  to  sea,  and  Jack  Benton  saw  my 
name  in  the  local  papers,  and  wrote  to 
me. 

He  said  that  he  had  left  the  sea, 
and  was  trying  farming,  and  he  was 
going  to  be  married,  and  he  asked  if  I 
wouldn't  come  over  for  that,  for  it  wasn't 
more  than  forty  minutes  by  train ;  and 
he  and  Mamie  would  be  proud  to  have 
me  at  the  wedding.  I  remembered  how 
I  had  heard  one  brother  ask  the  other 
whether  Mamie  knew.  That  meant, 
whether  she  knew  he  wanted  to  marry 
her,  I  suppose.  She  had  taken  her  time 
about  it,  for  it  was  pretty  nearly  three 
years  then  since  we  had  lost  Jim  Benton 
overboard. 

I  had  nothing  particular  to  do  while 
we  were  getting  ready  for  sea ;  nothing 
to  prevent  me  from  going  over  for  a 
70 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

day,  I  mean ;  and  I  thought  I'd  like  to 
see  Jack  Benton,  and  have  a  look  at  the 
girl  he  was  going  to  marry.  I  wondered 
whether  he  had  grown  cheerful  again, 
and  had  got  rid  of  that  drawn  look  he 
had  when  he  told  me  it  wasn't  his  fault. 
How  could  it  have  been  his  fault,  any 
how  ?  So  I  wrote  to  Jack  that  I  would 
come  down  and  see  him  married ;  and 
when  the  day  came  I  took  the  train,  and 
got  there  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing.  I  wish  I  hadn't.  Jack  met  me  at 
the  station,  and  he  told  me  that  the  wed 
ding  was  to  be  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
that  they  weren't  going  off  on  any  silly 
wedding  trip,  he  and  Mamie,  but  were 
just  going  to  walk  home  from  her 
mother's  house  to  his  cottage.  That 
was  good  enough  for  him,  he  said.  I 
looked  at  him  hard  for  a  minute  after  we 
met.  When  we  had  parted  I  had  a  sort  of 
idea  that  he  might  take  to  drink,  but  he 
hadn't.  He  looked  very  respectable  and 
well-to-do  in  his  black  coat  and  high  city 
collar;  but  he  was  thinner  and  bonier  than 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

when  I  had  known  him,  and  there  were 
lines  in  his  face,  and  I  thought  his  eyes 
had  a  queer  look  in  them,  half  shifty, 
half  scared.  He  needn't  have  been 
afraid  of  me,  for  I  didn't  mean  to  talk 
to  his  bride  about  the  Helen  B.  Jackson. 
He  took  me  to  his  cottage  first,  and  I 
could  see  that  he  was  proud  of  it.  It 
wasn't  above  a  cable's-length  from  high- 
water  mark,  but  the  tide  was  running  out, 
and  there  was  already  a  broad  stretch  of 
hard  wet  sand  on  the  other  side  of  the 
beach  road.  Jack's  bit  of  land  ran  back 
behind  the  cottage  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  and  he  said  that  some  of  the  trees 
we  saw  were  his.  The  fences  were  neat 
and  well  kept,  and  there  was  a  fair-sized 
barn  a  little  way  from  the  cottage,  and 
I  saw  some  nice-looking  cattle  in  the 
meadows ;  but  it  didn't  look  to  me  to 
be  much  of  a  farm,  and  I  thought  that 
before  long  Jack  would  have  to  leave 
his  wife  to  take  care  of  it,  and  go  to  sea 
again.  But  I  said  it  was  a  nice  farm, 
so  as  to  seem  pleasant,  and  as  I  don't 
72 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

know  much  about  these  things  I  dare 
say  it  was,  all  the  same.  I  never  saw 
it  but  that  once.  Jack  told  me  that  he 
and  his  brother  had  been  born  in  the 
cottage,  and  that  when  their  father  and 
mother  died  they  leased  the  land  to  Ma 
mie's  father,  but  had  kept  the  cottage 
to  live  in  when  they  came  home  from 
sea  for  a  spell.  It  was  as  neat  a  little 
place  as  you  would  care  to  see :  the 
floors  as  clean  as  the  decks  of  a  yacht, 
and  the  paint  as  fresh  as  a  man-o'-war. 
Jack  always  was  a  good  painter.  There 
was  a  nice  parlour  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  Jack  had  papered  it  and  had  hung 
the  walls  with  photographs  of  ships  and 
foreign  ports,  and  with  things  he  had 
brought  home  from  his  voyages:  a 
boomerang,  a  South  Sea  club,  Japan 
ese  straw  hats  and  a  Gibraltar  fan  with 
a  bull-fight  on  it,  and  all  that  sort  of 
gear.  It  looked  to  me  as  if  Miss  Ma 
mie  had  taken  a  hand  in  arranging  it. 
There  was  a  bran-new  polished  iron 
Franklin  stove  set  into  the  old  fireplace, 
I  73 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

and  a  red  table-cloth  from  Alexandria, 
embroidered  with  those  outlandish 
Egyptian  letters.  It  was  all  as  bright 
and  homelike  as  possible,  and  he  showed 
me  everything,  and  was  proud  of  every 
thing,  and  I  liked  him  the  better  for  it. 
But  I  wished  that  his  voice  would  sound 
more  cheerful,  as  it  did  when  we  first 
sailed  in  the  Helen  B.,  and  that  the 
drawn  look  would  go  out  of  his  face  for 
a  minute.  Jack  showed  me  everything, 
and  took  me  upstairs,  and  it  was  all  the 
same :  bright  and  fresh  and  ready  for 
the  bride.  But  on  the  upper  landing 
there  was  a  door  that  Jack  didn't  open. 
When  we  came  out  of  the  bedroom  I 
noticed  that  it  was  ajar,  and  Jack  shut 
it  quickly  and  turned  the  key. 

"  That  lock's  no  good,"  he  said,  half 
to  himself.    "The  door  is  always  open." 

I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  what 
he  said,  but  as  we  went  down  the  short 
stairs,  freshly  painted  and  varnished  so 
that  I  was  almost  afraid  to  step  on 
them,  he  spoke  again. 
74 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

"That  was  his  room,  sir.  I  have 
made  a  sort  of  store-room  of  it." 

"  You  may  be  wanting  it  in  a  year  or 
so,"  I  said,  wishing  to  be  pleasant. 

"I  guess  we  won't  use  his  room 
for  that,"  Jack  answered  in  a  low 
voice. 

Then  he  offered  me  a  cigar  from  a 
fresh  box  in  the  parlour,  and  he  took 
one,  and  we  lit  them,  and  went  out ; 
and  as  we  opened  the  front  door  there 
was  Mamie  Brewster  standing  in  the 
path  as  if  she  were  waiting  for  us.  She 
was  a  fine-looking  girl,  and  I  didn't 
wonder  that  Jack  had  been  willing  to 
wait  three  years  for  her.  I  could  see 
that  she  hadn't  been  brought  up  on 
steam-heat  and  cold  storage,  but  had 
grown  into  a  woman  by  the  sea-shore. 
She  had  brown  eyes,  and  fine  brown 
hair,  and  a  good  figure. 

"This   is   Captain  Torkeldsen,"  said 
Jack.      "This   is   Miss    Brewster,  cap 
tain;  and  she  is  glad  to  see  you." 
"Well,  I  am,"  said  Miss  Mamie,  "for 
75 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

Jack  has  often  talked  to  us  about  you, 
captain." 

She  put  out  her  hand,  and  took  mine 
and  shook  it  heartily,  and  I  suppose  I 
said  something,  but  I  know  I  didn't  say 
much. 

The  front  door  of  the  cottage  looked 
toward  the  sea,  and  there  was  a  straight 
path  leading  to  the  gate  on  the  beach 
road.  There  was  another  path  from 
the  steps  of  the  cottage  that  turned  to 
the  right,  broad  enough  for  two  people 
to  walk  easily,  and  it  led  straight  across 
the  fields  through  gates  to  a  larger 
house  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 
That  was  where  Mamie's  mother  lived, 
and  the  wedding  was  to  be  there.  Jack 
asked  me  whether  I  would  like  to  look 
round  the  farm  before  dinner,  but  I 
told  him  I  didn't  know  much  about 
farms.  Then  he  said  he  just  wanted 
to  look  round  himself  a  bit,  as  he 
mightn't  have  much  more  chance  that 
day ;  and  he  smiled,  and  Mamie  laughed. 

"Show  the  captain  the  way  to  the 
76 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

house,  Mamie,"  he  said.  "  I'll  be  along 
in  a  minute." 

So  Mamie  and  I  began  to  walk  along 
the  path,  and  Jack  went  up  toward  the 
barn. 

"  It  was  sweet  of  you  to  come,  cap 
tain,"  Miss  Mamie  began,  "for  I  have 
always  wanted  to  see  you." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  expecting  something 
more. 

"  You  see,  I  always  knew  them  both," 
she  went  on.  "  They  used  to  take  me 
out  in  a  dory  to  catch  codfish  when  I 
was  a  little  girl,  and  I  liked  them  both," 
she  added  thoughtfully.  "  Jack  doesn't 
care  to  talk  about  his  brother  now. 
That's  natural.  But  you  won't  mind 
telling  me  how  it  happened,  will  you  ? 
I  should  so  much  like  to  know." 

Well,  I  told  her  about  the  voyage  and 
what  happened  that  night  when  we  fell 
in  with  a  gale  of  wind,  and  that  it 
hadn't  been  anybody's  fault,  for  I  wasn't 
going  to  admit  that  it  was  my  old  cap 
tain's,  if  it  was.  But  I  didn't  tell  her 
77 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

anything  about  what  happened  after 
wards.  As  she  didn't  speak,  I  just 
went  on  talking  about  the  two  brothers, 
and  how  like  they  had  been,  and  how 
when  poor  Jim  was  drowned  and  Jack 
was  left,  I  took  Jack  for  him.  I  told 
her  that  none  of  us  had  ever  been  sure 
which  was  which. 

"  I  wasn't  always  sure  myself,"  she 
said,  "  unless  they  were  together.  Least 
ways,  not  for  a  day  or  two  after  they 
came  home  from  sea.  And  now  it 
seems  to  me  that  Jack  is  more  like 
poor  Jim,  as  I  remember  him,  than  he 
ever  was,  for  Jim  was  always  more  quiet, 
as  if  he  were  thinking." 

I  told  her  I  thought  so,  too.  We 
passed  the  gate  and  went  into  the  next 
field,  walking  side  by  side.  Then  she 
turned  her  head  to  look  for  Jack,  but  he 
wasn't  in  sight.  I  sha'n't  forget  what 
she  said  next. 

"  Are  you  sure  now  ? "  she  asked. 

I  stood  stock-still,  and  she  went  on  a 
step,  and  then  turned  and  looked  at  me. 
78 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

We   must   have   looked   at  each   other 
while  you  could  count  five  or  six. 

"  I  know  it's  silly,"  she  went  on,  "  it's 
silly,  and  it's  awful,  too,  and  I  have  got 
no  right  to  think  it,  but  sometimes  I 
can't  help  it.  You  see  it  was  always 
Jack  I  meant  to  marry." 

"  Yes,"  I  said  stupidly,  "  I  suppose  so." 

She  waited  a  minute,  and  began 
walking  on  slowly  before  she  went  on 
again. 

"  I  am  talking  to  you  as  if  you  were 
an  old  friend,  captain,  and  I  have  only 
known  you  five  minutes.  It  was  Jack  I 
meant  to  marry,  but  now  he  is  so  like 
the  other  one." 

When  a  woman  gets  a  wrong  idea 
into  her  head,  there  is  only  one  way  to 
make  her  tired  of  it,  and  that  is  to 
agree  with  her.  That's  what  I  did, 
and  she  went  on  talking  the  same  way 
for  a  little  while,  and  I  kept  on  agree 
ing  and  agreeing  until  she  turned  round 
on  me. 

"You  know  you   don't  believe  what 

79 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

you  say,"  she  said,  and  laughed.  "You 
know  that  Jack  is  Jack,  right  enough ; 
and  it's  Jack  I  am  going  to  marry." 

Of  course  I  said  so,  for  I  didn't  care 
whether  she  thought  me  a  weak  crea 
ture  or  not.  I  wasn't  going  to  say  a 
word  that  could  interfere  with  her  hap 
piness,  and  I  didn't  intend  to  go  back 
on  Jack  Benton;  but  I  remembered 
what  he  had  said  when  he  left  the  ship 
in  Havana  :  that  it  wasn't  his  fault 

"All  the  same,"  Miss  Mamie  went 
on,  as  a  woman  will,  without  realising 
what  she  was  saying,  "all  the  same,  I 
wish  I  had  seen  it  happen.  Then  I 
should  know." 

Next  minute  she  knew  that  she  didn't 
mean  that,  and  was  afraid  that  I  would 
think  her  heartless,  and  began  to  ex 
plain  that  she  would  really  rather  have 
died  herself  than  have  seen  poor  Jim  go 
overboard.  Women  haven't  got  much 
sense,  anyhow.  All  the  same,  I  won 
dered  how  she  could  marry  Jack  if  she 
had  a  doubt  that  he  might  be  Jim  after 
80 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

all.  I  suppose  she  had  really  got  used 
to  him  since  he  had  given  up  the  sea 
and  had  stayed  ashore,  and  she  cared 
for  him. 

Before  long  we  heard  Jack  coming 
up  behind  us,  for  we  had  walked  very 
slowly  to  wait  for  him. 

"  Promise  not  to  tell  anybody  what  I 
said,  captain,"  said  Mamie,  as  girls  do 
as  soon  as  they  have  told  their  secrets. 

Anyhow,  I  know  I  never  did  tell  any 
one  but  you.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
talked  of  all  that,  the  first  time  since  I 
took  the  train  from  that  place.  I  am  not 
going  to  tell  you  all  about  the  day.  Miss 
Mamie  introduced  me  to  her  mother, 
who  was  a  quiet,  hard-faced  old  New  Eng 
land  farmer's  widow,  and  to  her  cous 
ins  and  relations ;  and  there  were  plenty 
of  them  too  at  dinner,  and  there  was  the 
parson  besides.  He  was  what  they  call 
a  Hard-shell  Baptist  in  those  parts,  with 
a  long,  shaven  upper  lip  and  a  whacking 
appetite,  and  a  sort  of  superior  look,  as 
if  he  didn't  expect  to  see  many  of  us 
G  81 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

hereafter  — the  way  a  New  York  pilot 
looks  round,  and  orders  things  about 
when  he  boards  an  Italian  cargo-dragger, 
as  if  the  ship  weren't  up  to  much  any 
way,  though  it  was  his  business  to  see 
that  she  didn't  get  aground.  That's  the 
way  a  good  many  parsons  look,  I  think. 
He  said  grace  as  if  he  were  ordering  the 
men  to  sheet  home  the  topgallant-sail 
and  get  the  helm  up.  After  dinner  we 
went  out  on  the  piazza,  for  it  was  warm 
autumn  weather;  and  the  young  folks 
went  off  in  pairs  along  the  beach  road, 
and  the  tide  had  turned  and  was  begin 
ning  to  come  in.  The  morning  had 
been  clear  and  fine,  but  by  four  o'clock 
it  began  to  look  like  a  fog,  and  the 
damp  came  up  out  of  the  sea  and  set 
tled  on  everything.  Jack  said  he'd  go 
down  to  his  cottage  and  have  a  last 
look,  for  the  wedding  was  to  be  at  five 
o'clock,  or  soon  after,  and  he  wanted  to 
light  the  lights,  so  as  to  have  things  look 
cheerful. 

"I  will  just  take  a  last  look,"  he  said 
82 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

again,  as  we  reached  the  house.  We 
went  in,  and  he  offered  me  another 
cigar,  and  I  lit  it  and  sat  down  in  the 
parlour.  I  could  hear  him  moving  about, 
first  in  the  kitchen  and  then  upstairs, 
and  then  I  heard  him  in  the  kitchen 
again ;  and  then  before  I  knew  any 
thing  I  heard  somebody  moving  upstairs 
again.  I  knew  he  couldn't  have  got  up 
those  stairs  as  quick  as  that.  He  came 
into  the  parlour,  and  he  took  a  cigar 
himself,  and  while  he  was  lighting  it  I 
heard  those  steps  again  overhead.  His 
hand  shook,  and  he  dropped  the  match. 

"  Have  you  got  in  somebody  to  help  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  No,"  Jack  answered  sharply,  and 
struck  another  match. 

"  There's  somebody  upstairs,  Jack," 
I  said.  "  Don't  you  hear  footsteps  ?  " 

"  It's  the  wind,  captain,"  Jack  an 
swered  ;  but  I  could  see  he  was  trembling. 

"  That  isn't  any  wind,  Jack,"  I  said ; 
"it's  still  and  foggy.  I'm  sure  there's 
somebody  upstairs." 

83 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

"  If  you  are  so  sure  of  it,  you'd  better 
go  and  see  for  yourself,  captain,"  Jack 
answered,  almost  angrily. 

He  was  angry  because  he  was  fright 
ened.  I  left  him  before  the  fireplace, 
and  went  upstairs.  There  was  no  power 
on  earth  that  could  make  me  believe  I 
hadn't  heard  a  man's  footsteps  over 
head.  I  knew  there  was  somebody 
there.  But  there  wasn't.  I  went  into 
the  bedroom,  and  it  was  all  quiet,  and 
the  evening  light  was  streaming  in,  red 
dish  through  the  foggy  air ;  and  I  went 
out  on  the  landing  and  looked  in  the 
little  back  room  that  was  meant  for  a 
servant  girl  or  a  child.  And  as  I  came 
back  again  I  saw  that  the  door  of  the 
other  room  was  wide  open,  though  I 
knew  Jack  had  locked  it.  He  had  said 
the  lock  was  no  good.  I  looked  in.  It 
was  a  room  as  big  as  the  bedroom,  but 
almost  dark,  for  it  had  shutters,  and  they 
were  closed.  There  was  a  musty  smell, 
as  of  old  gear,  and  I  could  make  out 
that  the  floor  was  littered  with  sea  chests, 
84 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

and  that  there  were  oilskins  and  such 
stuff  piled  on  the  bed.  But  I  still  be 
lieved  that  there  was  somebody  upstairs, 
and  I  went  in  and  struck  a  match  and 
looked  round.  I  could  see  the  four 
walls  and  the  shabby  old  paper,  an  iron 
bed  and  a  cracked  looking-glass,  and  the 
stuff  on  the  floor.  But  there  was  nobody 
there.  So  I  put  out  the  match,  and 
came  out  and  shut  the  door  and  turned 
the  key.  Now,  what  I  am  telling  you  is 
the  truth.  When  I  had  turned  the  key, 
I  heard  footsteps  walking  away  from  the 
door  inside  the  room.  Then  I  felt  queer 
for  a  minute,  and  when  I  went  down 
stairs  I  looked  behind  me,  as  the  men  at 
the  wheel  used  to  look  behind  them  on 
board  the  Helen  B. 

Jack  was  already  outside  on  the  steps, 
smoking.  I  have  an  idea  that  he  didn't 
like  to  stay  inside  alone. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked,  trying  to  seem 
careless. 

"  I  didn't  find  anybody,"  I  answered, 
"  but  I  heard  somebody  moving  about." 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

"I  told  you  it  was  the  wind,"  said 
Jack,  contemptuously.  "  I  ought  to  know, 
for  I  live  here,  and  I  hear  it  often." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said  to  that, 
so  we  began  to  walk  down  toward  the 
beach.  Jack  said  there  wasn't  any 
hurry,  as  it  would  take  Miss  Mamie 
some  time  to  dress  for  the  wedding.  So 
we  strolled  along,  and  the  sun  was  set 
ting  through  the  fog,  and  the  tide  was 
coming  in.  I  knew  the  moon  was  full, 
and  that  when  she  rose  the  fog  would 
roll  away  from  the  land,  as  it  does  some 
times.  I  felt  that  Jack  didn't  like  my 
having  heard  that  noise,  so  I  talked  of 
other  things,  and  asked  him  about  his 
prospects,  and  before  long  we  were 
chatting  as  pleasantly  as  possible. 

I  haven't  been  at  many  weddings  in 
my  life,  and  I  don't  suppose  you  have, 
but  that  one  seemed  to  me  to  be  all 
right  until  it  was  pretty  near  over ;  and 
then,  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  part 
of  the  ceremony  or  not,  but  Jack  put 
out  his  hand  and  took  Mamie's  and  held 
86 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

it  a  minute,  and  looked  at  her,  while  the 
parson  was  still  speaking. 

Mamie  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet  and 
screamed.  It  wasn't  a  loud  scream,  but 
just  a  sort  of  stifled  little  shriek,  as  if 
she  were  half  frightened  to  death ;  and 
the  parson  stopped,  and  asked  her  what 
was  the  matter,  and  the  family  gathered 
round. 

"Your  hand's  like  ice,"  said  Mamie 
to  Jack,  "  and  it's  all  wet ! " 

She  kept  looking  at  it,  as  she  got  hold 
of  herself  again. 

"  It  don't  feel  cold  to  me,"  said  Jack, 
and  he  held  the  back  of  his  hand  against 
his  cheek.  "Try  it  again." 

Mamie  held  out  hers,  and  touched  the 
back  of  his  hand,  timidly  at  first,  and 
then  took  hold  of  it. 

"Why,  that's  funny,"  she  said. 

"  She's  been  as  nervous  as  a  witch  all 
day,"  said  Mrs.  Brewster,  severely. 

"  It  is  natural,"  said  the  parson,  "  that 
young  Mrs.  Benton  should  experience  a 
little  agitation  at  such  a  moment." 
87 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

Most  of  the  bride's  relations  lived  at 
a  distance,  and  were  busy  people,  so  it 
had  been  arranged  that  the  dinner  we'd 
had  in  the  middle  of  the  day  was  to  take 
the  place  of  a  dinner  afterwards,  and 
that  we  should  just  have  a  bite  after  the 
wedding  was  over,  and  then  that  every 
body  should  go  home,  and  the  young 
couple  would  walk  down  to  the  cottage 
by  themselves.  When  I  looked  out  I 
could  see  the  light  burning  brightly  in 
Jack's  cottage,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 
I  said  I  didn't  think  I  could  get  any 
train  to  take  me  back  before  half-past 
nine,  but  Mrs.  Brewster  begged  me  to 
stay  until  it  was  time,  as  she  said  her 
daughter  would  want  to  take  off  her 
wedding  dress  before  she  went  home ; 
for  she  had  put  on  something  white  with 
a  wreath,  that  was  very  pretty,  and  she 
couldn't  walk  home  like  that,  could  she  ? 

So  when  we  had  all  had  a  little  supper 

the  party  began  to  break  up,  and  when 

they  were  all  gone  Mrs.  Brewster  and 

Mamie  went  upstairs,  and  Jack  and  I 

88 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

went  out  on  the  piazza  to  have  a  smoke, 
as  the  old  lady  didn't  like  tobacco  in  the 
house. 

The  full  moon  had  risen  now,  and  it 
was  behind  me  as  I  looked  down  toward 
Jack's  cottage,  so  that  everything  was 
clear  and  white,  and  there  was  only 
the  light  burning  in  the  window.  The 
fog  had  rolled  down  to  the  water's 
edge,  and  a  little  beyond,  for  the  tide 
was  high,  or  nearly,  and  was  lapping  up 
over  the  last  reach  of  sand,  within  fifty 
feet  of  the  beach  road. 

Jack  didn't  say  much  as  we  sat  smok 
ing,  but  he  thanked  me  for  coming  to 
his  wedding,  and  I  told  him  I  hoped 
he  would  be  happy;  and  so  I  did.  I 
dare  say  both  of  us  were  thinking  of 
those  footsteps  upstairs,  just  then,  and 
that  the  house  wouldn't  seem  so  lonely 
with  a  woman  in  it.  By  and  by  we 
heard  Mamie's  voice  talking  to  her 
mother  on  the  stairs,  and  in  a  minute 
she  was  ready  to  go.  She  had  put 
on  again  the  dress  she  had  worn  in 
89 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

the  morning,  and  it  looked  black  at 
night,  almost  as  black  as  Jack's  coat. 
Well,  they  were  ready  to  go  now.  It 
was  all  very  quiet  after  the  day's  excite 
ment,  and  I  knew  they  would  like  to 
walk  down  that  path  alone  now  that 
they  were  man  and  wife  at  last.  I 
bade  them  good-night,  although  Jack 
made  a  show  of  pressing  me  to  go 
with  them  by  the  path  as  far  as  the 
cottage,  instead  of  going  to  the  station 
by  the  beach  road.  It  was  all  very 
quiet,  and  it  seemed  to  me  a  sensible 
way  of  getting  married;  and  when 
Mamie  kissed  her  mother  good-night 
I  just  looked  the  other  way,  and  knocked 
my  ashes  over  the  rail  of  the  piazza. 
So  they  started  down  the  straight  path 
to  Jack's  cottage,  and  I  waited  a  minute 
with  Mrs.  Brewster,  looking  after  them, 
before  taking  my  hat  to  go.  They 
walked  side  by  side,  a  little  shyly  at 
first,  and  then  I  saw  Jack  put  his  arm 
round  her  waist.  As  I  looked  he  was 
on  her  left,  and  I  saw  the  outline  of 
90 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

the  two  figures  very  distinctly  against  the 
moonlight  on  the  path ;  and  the  shadow 
on  Mamie's  right  was  broad  and  black 
as  ink,  and  it  moved  along,  lengthening 
and  shortening  with  the  unevenness  of 
the  ground  beside  the  path. 

I  thanked  Mrs.  Brewster,  and  bade 
her  good-night ;  and  though  she  was  a 
hard  New  England  woman  her  voice 
trembled  a  little  as  she  answered,  but 
being  a  sensible  person  she  went  in  and 
shut  the  door  behind  her  as  I  stepped 
out  on  the  path.  I  looked  after  the 
couple  in  the  distance  a  last  time,  mean 
ing  to  go  down  to  the  road,  so  as  not  to 
overtake  them ;  but  when  I  had  made  a 
few  steps  I  stopped  and  looked  again, 
for  I  knew  I  had  seen  something  queer, 
though  I  had  only  realised  it  afterwards. 
I  looked  again,  and  it  was  plain  enough 
now  ;  and  I  stood  stock-still,  staring  at 
what  I  saw.  Mamie  was  walking  be 
tween  two  men.  The  second  man  was 
just  the  same  height  as  Jack,  both  being 
about  a  half  a  head  taller  than  she ;  Jack 
91 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

on  her  left  in  his  black  tail-coat  and 
round  hat,  and  the  other  man  on  her 
right  —  well,  he  was  a  sailor-man  in  wet 
oilskins.  I  could  see  the  moonlight 
shining  on  the  water  that  ran  down  him, 
and  on  the  little  puddle  that  had  settled 
where  the  flap  of  his  sou'wester  was 
turned  up  behind  :  and  one  of  his  wet, 
shiny  arms  was  round  Mamie's  waist, 
just  above  Jack's.  I  was  fast  to  the 
spot  where  I  stood,  and  for  a  minute  I 
thought  I  was  crazy.  We'd  had  nothing 
but  some  cider  for  dinner,  and  tea  in 
the  evening,  otherwise  I'd  have  thought 
something  had  got  into  my  head,  though 
I  was  never  drunk  in  my  life.  It  was 
more  like  a  bad  dream  after  that. 

I  was  glad  Mrs.  Brewster  had  gone 
in.  As  for  me,  I  couldn't  help  following 
the  three,  in  a  sort  of  wonder  to  see  what 
would  happen,  to  see  whether  the  sailor- 
man  in  his  wet  togs  would  just  melt  away 
into  the  moonshine.  But  he  didn't. 

I  moved  slowly,  and  I  remembered 
afterwards  that  I  walked  on  the  grass, 
92 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

instead  of  on  the  path,  as  if  I  were 
afraid  they  might  hear  me  coming.  I 
suppose  it  all  happened  in  less  than  five 
minutes  after  that,  but  it  seemed  as  if  it 
must  have  taken  an  hour.  Neither  Jack 
nor  Mamie  seemed  to  notice  the  sailor. 
She  didn't  seem  to  know  that  his  wet 
arm  was  round  her,  and  little  by  little 
they  got  near  the  cottage,  and  I  wasn't 
a  hundred  yards  from  them  when  they 
reached  the  door.  Something  made  me 
stand  still  then.  Perhaps  it  was  fright, 
for  I  saw  everything  that  happened  just 
as  I  see  you  now. 

Mamie  set  her  foot  on  the  step  to  go 
up,  and  as  she  went  forward  I  saw  the 
sailor  slowly  lock  his  arm  in  Jack's,  and 
Jack  didn't  move  to  go  up.  Then 
Mamie  turned  round  on  the  step,  and 
they  all  three  stood  that  way  for  a 
second  or  two.  She  cried  out  then,  — 
I  heard  a  man  cry  like  that  once,  when 
his  arm  was  taken  off  by  a  steam-crane, 
—  and  she  fell  back  in  a  heap  on  the 
little  piazza. 

93 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

I  tried  to  jump  forward,  but  I  couldn't 
move,  and  I  felt  my  hair  rising  under 
my  hat.  The  sailor  turned  slowly  where 
he  stood,  and  swung  Jack  round  by  the 
arm  steadily  and  easily,  and  began  to 
walk  him  down  the  pathway  from  the 
house.  He  walked  him  straight  down 
that  path,  as  steadily  as  Fate;  and  all 
the  time  I  saw  the  moonlight  shining 
on  his  wet  oilskins.  He  walked  him 
through  the  gate,  and  across  the  beach 
road,  and  out  upon  the  wet  sand,  where 
the  tide  was  high.  Then  I  got  my 
breath  with  a  gulp,  and  ran  for  them 
across  the  grass,  and  vaulted  over  the 
fence,  and  stumbled  across  the  road. 
But  when  I  felt  the  sand  under  my  feet, 
the  two  were  at  the  water's  edge ;  and 
when  I  reached  the  water  they  were  far 
out,  and  up  to  their  waists ;  and  I  saw 
that  Jack  Benton's  head  had  fallen  for 
ward  on  his  breast,  and  his  free  arm 
hung  limp  beside  him,  while  his  dead 
brother  steadily  marched  him  to  his 
death.  The  moonlight  was  on  the  dark 
94 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

water,  but  the  fog-bank  was  white  be 
yond,  and  I  saw  them  against  it ;  and 
they  went  slowly  and  steadily  down.  The 
water  was  up  to  their  armpits,  and  then 
up  to  their  shoulders,  and  then  I  saw  it 
rise  up  to  the  black  rim  of  Jack's  hat. 
But  they  never  wavered ;  and  the  two 
heads  went  straight  on,  straight  on,  till 
they  were  under,  and  there  was  just  a  rip 
ple  in  the  moonlight  where  Jack  had  been. 
It  has  been  on  my  mind  to  tell  you 
that  story,  whenever  I  got  a  chance. 
You  have  known  me,  man  and  boy,  a 
good  many  years;  and  I  thought  I 
would  like  to  hear  your  opinion.  Yes, 
that's  what  I  always  thought.  It  wasn't 
Jim  that  went  overboard;  it  was  Jack, 
and  Jim  just  let  him  go  when  he  might 
have  saved  him;  and  then  Jim  passed 
himself  off  for  Jack  with  us,  and  with 
the  girl.  If  that's  what  happened,  he 
got  what  he  deserved.  People  said  the 
next  day  that  Mamie  found  it  out  as 
they  reached  the  house,  and  that  her 
husband  just  walked  out  into  the  sea, 
95 


MAN  OVERBOARD! 

and  drowned  himself;  and  they  would 
have  blamed  me  for  not  stopping  him 
if  they'd  known  that  I  was  there.  But 
I  never  told  what  I  had  seen,  for  they 
wouldn't  have  believed  me.  I  just  let 
them  think  I  had  come  too  late. 

When  I  reached  the  cottage  and  lifted 
Mamie  up,  she  was  raving  mad.  She 
got  better  afterwards,  but  she  was  never 
right  in  her  head  again. 

Oh,  you  want  to  know  if  they  found 
Jack's  body  ?  I  don't  know  whether  it 
was  his,  but  I  read  in  a  paper  at  a 
Southern  port  where  I  was  with  my 
new  ship  that  two  dead  bodies  had 
come  ashore  in  a  gale  down  East,  in 
pretty  bad  shape.  They  were  locked 
together,  and  one  was  a  skeleton  in 
oilskins. 


FRANCIS  MARION  CRAWFORD,  the 
youngest  of  the  four  children  of  the  well- 
known  sculptor  Thomas  Crawford,  was 
born  in  Rome,  educated  by  a  French 
governess ;  then  at  St.  Paul's  School, 
Concord,  N.H. ;  in  the  quiet  country 
village  of  Hatfield  Regis,  under  an  Eng 
lish  tutor;  at  Trinity  College,  Cam 
bridge,  where  they  thought  him  a  mathe 
matician  in  those  days ;  at  Heidelberg 
and  Karlsruhe,  and  at  the  University  of 
Rome,  where  a  special  interest  in  Orien 
tal  languages  sent  him  to  India  with  the 
idea  of  preparing  for  a  professorship. 

At  one  time  in  India  hard  times  nearly 
forced  him  into  enlistment  in  the  British 
army,  but  a  chance  opening  sent  him 
as  editor  of  the  Indian  Herald  to  Allah 
abad.  It  was  during  the  next  eighteen 
months  that  he  met  at  Simla  the  hero 
of  his  first  novel,  "Mr.  Isaacs."  "If 
it  had  not  been  for  him,"  Mr.  Crawford 
has  been  known  to  say,  "  I  might  at  this 
moment  be  a  professor  of  Sanskrit  in 
some  American  college  ;  "  for  that  idea 
persisted  after  his  return  to  the  United 
States,  where  he  entered  Harvard  for 
special  study  of  the  subject. 


But  from  the  May  evening  when  the  story 
of  the  interesting  man  at  Simla  was  first 
told  in  a  club  smoking-room  overlooking 
Madison  Square,  Mr.  Crawford's  life 
has  been  one  of  hard  literary  work. 
He  returned  to  Italy  in  1883,  spent 
most  of  the  next  year  in  Constantinople, 
where  he  was  married  to  a  daughter  of 
General  Berdan.  From  1885  he  has 
made  his  home  in  Sorrento,  Italy,  visit 
ing  America  at  intervals. 

"Mr.  Isaacs,"  published  in  1882,  was  fol 
lowed  almost  at  once  by  "  Dr.  Claudius." 
Then  The  Atlantic  Monthly  claimed  a 
serial,  "A  Roman  Singer,"  in  1883. 
Since  that  time  the  list  of  his  novels 
has  been  increased  to  thirty-two,  besides 
the  historical  and  descriptive  works  en 
titled  "  Ave  Roma  Immortalis "  and 
"  The  Rulers  of  the  South." 

To  Mr.  Crawford,  the  development  of  a 
story  and  of  the  character  which  sug 
gested  it,  is  the  preeminent  thing.  As 
the  critics  say :  — 

"  He  is  an  artist,  a  born  story-teller 
and  colourist,  imaginative  and  dramatic, 
virile  and  vivid." 

His  wide  range  as  a  traveller  has  contrib- 

2 


uted  doubtless  to  another  characteristic 
quality :  — 

"...  his  strength  in  unexcelled  por 
traits  of  odd  characters  and  his  magi 
cal  skill  in  seeming  to  make  his  readers 
witnesses  of  the  spectacles." 

His  intimate  knowledge  of  many  countries 
has  resulted  in  an  unequalled  series 
of  brilliant  romances,  including  varied 
characters  from  the  old  families  of 
Rome,  the  glassblowers  of  Venice,  the 
silversmiths  of  Rome,  the  cigarette  mak 
ers  of  Munich,  the  court  of  old  Madrid, 
the  Turks  of  Stamboul  and  the  Bos- 
phorus,  simple  sailors  on  the  coast  of 
Spain,  Americans  of  modern  New  York 
and  Bar  Harbor,  to  Crusaders  of  the 
twelfth  century.  But  whether  the  scene 
be  in  modern  India,  rural  England,  the 
Black  Forest,  or  the  palaces  of  Babylon, 
the  story  seizes  on  the  imagination  and 
fascinates  the  reader. 

"  The  romantic  reader  will  find  here 
a  tale  of  love  passionate  and  pure;  the 
student  of  character,  the  subtle  analysis 
and  deft  portrayal  he  loves;  the  histo 
rian  will  approve  its  conscientious  his 
toric  accuracy;  the  lover  of  adventure 
will  find  his  blood  stir  and  pulses 
quicken  as  he  reads." 

3 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

F.    MARION    CRAWFORD 

NEW   UNIFORM   EDITION 


Dr.  Claudius 

A  Roman  Singer 
Zoroaster 

Don  Orsiro 

Maron  Darche 

A  Cigarette  Maker's  Romance  and  Khaled 
Taquisara 

Via  Crucis 

Sant'  Ilario 

The  Ralstons 

Adam  Johnstone's  Son  and  A  Rose  of  Yesterday 
Mr.  Isaacs 

A  Tale  of  a  Lonely  Parish 
Saracinesca 

Paul  Patoff 
The  Witch  of  Prague 
Pietro  Ghisleri 
Corleone 

Children  of  the  King 

Katherine  Lauderdale 

To  Leeward 
Each,  bound  in  cloth,  green  and  gold,  $1.50 


In  preparation  in  tbe  Uniform  Edition 

An  American  Politician 
Marzio's  Crucifix 

With  the  Immortals 
Greifenstein 

The  Three  Fates 

Casa  Braccio.    2  vols. 
Love  in  Idleness 


F.   MARION    CRAWFORD'S 

MOST  RECENT  NOVELS 


CECILIA :  A  Story  of  Modern  Rome 

Cloth,  $1.50 

"The  reincarnation  of  a  great  love 
is  the  real  story,  and  that  is  well  worth 
reading."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

MARIETTA :  A  Maid  of  Venice 

Cloth,  $7.50 

IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING 
A  Love  Story  of  Old  Madrid 

Illustrated.    Cloth,  $1.50 


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Studies  from  the  Chronicles  of  Rome 

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Sicily,  Calabria,  Malta 

In  two  volumes.    Crown  8vo.    $6.00,  net. 
5 


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A  STORY  OF  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 
By  Owen  Wister 

Author  of  "  The  Virginian,"  etc. 

MAN  OVERBOARD 

By  F.  Marion  Crawford 

Author  of  "  Cecilia,"  "  Marietta,"  etc. 

MR.  KEEGAN'S  ELOPEMENT 

By  Winston  Churchill 

Author  of  "  The  Crisis,"  '<  Richard  Carvel,"  etc. 

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